Italian Days, Part XVI

In Syracuse (Sicily, not New York)

Entrance to the Port of Syracuse, by Max Slevogt (1914) (Wikimedia Commons)

Dear readers: The previous parts of this journal can be found at the following links: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, VIX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV.

You may remember what a man in Reggio Calabria told me: that Syracuse (or “Siracusa,” in this country) is his favorite city in Europe. That is startling, right? In light of Paris, Rome, Prague …

You know, I get it. I understand him.

Syracuse is beautiful, in land and sea. It is beautiful in the man-made as well as the natural. Syracuse is very interesting, in historical and other terms. The food is delicious. The people are warm.

I could be describing many, many cities in Italy and elsewhere in the world, right? Yes, but in Syracuse, you have all that in concentrated form.

Anyway—a hit of a city.

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There are blooming trees lining the streets. The place is all decked out, as if in welcome.

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Street names are the same as in most any Italian city: “Garibaldi,” “Cavour,” “Mazzini” … But they are also Greek: “Socrates,” “Aristotle,” “Plutarch” …

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Through a park, you can see a pantheon. Or is it a church? It’s both. This is the Church of San Tommaso al Pantheon.

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In the archeological park, you have things Greek, things Roman—things alluringly classical:

There are two theaters in the park: a Greek and a Roman. Let me show you a picture of the latter and then make a comment:

I swear, this makes me think of Michigan Stadium, in my hometown. Same basic shape, same basic concept.

You can take the boy out of Ann Arbor, but …

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Behold a cave, known as the Ear of Dionysius. The acoustics are famous here. I sing a little something—there’s no one else around—and sound almost good …

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You need to cool off?

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I am not quite ready for a drink and a snack, but I pass a sidewalk café at which nine men are crowded around a table for four. They are yakking away, in what I take to be siciliano siracusano. In age, they range from about 50 to 80. I take the table next to them and listen intently. I get … 15 percent of it? They are talking mainly about family: sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, others.

This session is a mixture of fraternity and therapy …

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Syracusan pasta—e.g., spaghetti alla siracusana—is different and flavorful. It is a little fishy, a little crunchy—unique, in my experience. People have written at length about this, but maybe I could just show you a quick photo?

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The Italian way of saying “to retire”—as in to retire from working life—is “to go into pension,” “andare in pensione.” I quite like the below poster: “Life does not retire, does not go into pension”:

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An alley cat—a literal cat in an alley—has found a shaft of sun:

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I meet a young couple from London. University-aged, I think. They are spending a month in Sicily—Sicily alone. That is a smart choice, I think. They will read deeply, so to speak, while I am kind of skimming …

London is my favorite city, I tell them. I’m not sure about the young woman, but the young man is ready to bust out of London. He has a yen for New York. I understand him.

But I also think that, when he is older, he will appreciate London like all get-out.

Don’t most people, or many people, wanna bust out of where they’re from, even if where they’re from is someplace that many other people would like to get to?

But a lot of people want to remain where they have always been. I understand them too.

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A quick culinary observation: Some shops have cannoli, laid out and ready to go. Others have just the shells laid out—and they will fill them when you order.

Which seems right …

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That genius Archimedes—mathematician, engineer, etc.—was from here in Syracuse. Archimedes Square is a very pleasant place, maybe especially on a summer evening.

Just a quick shot:

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I encounter a kid—13 or so—in a Lakers jersey. No. 23. “LeBron James,” I say. Yup, his favorite player. I tell him that I first knew LeBron as a Cavalier—a Cleveland Cavalier. This is easy to say in Italian: LeBron was a Cavaliere.

This young fellow is amazed that I know this ancient history—almost as old as Archimedes: LeBron James as a Cleveland Cavalier … (He had two stints in Cleveland, of course.)

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On buses, you see the acronym “SAIS.” In my little world, back home, it stands for the School of Advanced International Studies. Here, it stands for the primary Sicilian bus service.

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“Have laptop, will travel.” A headset is handy too. Bill Kristol has asked me to do a podcast, and it is a pleasure to oblige. I’ve been talking with him since the mid-1990s—about politics, history, music, literature, Al Kaline …

This podcast is here. Plenty of Italy, plenty of America, a fair amount of literature. No baseball. It’s World Cup time anyway. The All-Star break is next week.

Thank you so much for joining me, my friends—for subscribing and all that. See you up in the mountains, in my next installment.