Hanging out with the Mafia

                   Hanging Out With The Mafia

Maybe we didn’t rub shoulders with the infamous crime family, but we had a great vacation trip to Sicily, and we might have set right next to a Mafia don at the next table. But my story about Sicily has very little to do with the Mafia. Sicily is a wonderful vacation spot.

In early October we took a direct flight to Zurich, Switzerland to rest up from our overseas flight for a couple of days. Zurich has great hotels in the center of the city on the Bahnhofstrasse, a great shopping street. After a couple of days, we boarded Swiss Air to Catania, Sicily, and after renting a tiny Fiat, we headed south, and a couple of hours later, we arrived in Ragusa.

We had good directions to our hotel in Ragusa, and, I told Vertis, “We shouldn’t have a problem.” Boy, was I wrong. As we entered Ragusa, it was obvious that unless you were a native, understanding Upper Ragusa and Lower Ragusa and that combined with Old Ragusa, which also had an Old Upper Ragusa and a New Upper Ragusa, you were going to have driving problems.

Ragusa is an ancient town that is hanging on the two walls of a steep canyon, which compounds the driving situation, and makes for dead-end streets, and of course the Old Lower Ragusa streets are centuries old and on some streets when we met a pedestrian, he or she would have to step into a doorway to let you pass. But we ventured deep into to Lower Ragusa, then back to Upper Old Ragusa and then back to New Ragusa, and of course, I don’t ask directions, but finally I gave up when I  ended up in a dead end alley, and I had to back up for a hundred yards. That’s when I thought of a way to find our hotel.

“Vertis, let’s take a taxi.”

“What? We can’t leave the car.”

“We’re not. I’m going to hire a taxi, and tell him that we are going to follow him to the hotel.”

The taxi driver understood, and then it was off to the races.  Well, we careened down into Lower Old Ragusa like we were going to a fire, and then the taxi pulled over, and with a bit of English he told us the road was closed because of a festival, but if we walked straight down the street, we couldn’t miss the hotel.

“Hotel will come get car tomorrow,” he promised.

“Surely, you aren’t going to leave our bags and the car on the sidewalk, are you?” Vertis asked.

Yes, the car was on the sidewalk, but I just mumbled, “Yeah, get your purse.”

Down into Lower Old Ragusa we walked, and after about what I estimated to be a half mile, I spotted crowds of people, and lo and behold, the hotel. Well, the receptionist was nice and soon we were checked in. Then as she started to leave she said, “St George is coming!”

Well, I looked at Vertis and said, “Let’s go see St. George.”

We walked a couple of blocks to a very large plaza that was packed with people, bands, food, and drink. After an hour or so, a group of trumpet players from the church steps started up and everyone began crowding around the upper end of the plaza.  Then with a roar from the huge crowd, and more music, trumpets and singers than you would believe, a bigger than life St George on a white horse killing a dragon came out of a side street. It was a huge float carried by at least 30 men. It was a sight to behold. St. George is the patron saint of Ragusa and this was St George’s Day.

Wow, what a start to our Sicily trip! We spent several nights in Ragusa meeting some of the friendliest folks and eating the best food you can imagine, and then it was off to what was billed as a small inn between several towns we wanted to visit. This time directions were from the inn’s owner, and they seemed very good until we turned off the main highway, and according to the directions there would be another road in two miles where I would make a right turn. I slowed down to see if there was a road, when a car pulled out and stopped.

“I’ll ask directions,” I told Vertis. She laughed.

However, before I could get out of the car, the man walked over and asked, “Are you the Masons?”

We were surprised, but he said, “I’m Enrico, the owner. Just follow me.”

We drove through the vineyard to a rustic looking large manor house where we settled in. It turned out we were the only guests for the next several nights, and with a chef-waiter from Bangladesh, who did wonderful things in the kitchen, we were treated royally. The chef-waiter, wearing a white smock, stood about six feet away as we dined, and just a nod brought whatever we wanted.

Enrico couldn’t have been more charming and accommodating, and when we told him we owned a small executive inn, Union Square Guest Quarters, he checked it out on the internet and promised to visit. During the conversation, he commented that we should go see the caverns, which puzzled us, but the next day, off we went, and about an hour later, we stopped at the site. But as we walked into a wooded area, we realized he meant, “Columns” and I expected to see some ruins, but we were shocked. It was an open quarry where the columns for major ancient buildings were chiseled out of solid rock to be taken and put in place at temples. The workers had the exact measurements to make them fit. But what was an eye-opener, were the half-finished ones still partly in solid rock. It seems a Mr. Hannibal from North Africa, showed up and work stopped.

The next day it was on to Agrigento a small town located an easy driving distance to several major Greek ruins. (By the way, Agrigento is one of Dr. Steve Jones of El Dorado favorite vacation spots.) The best ruins were in an area called the Valley of the Temples where we spent the day touring several major Greek ruins. There’s not a valley, but a string of major temples, all within a five mile area. They are the most spectacular Greek ruins of any I’ve ever seen.

Eight house later, Vertis said, “I’ve seen enough Roman ruins to last a life-time…”

“They were Greek, Vertis.”

“Whatever!”

Then it was on to Palermo where we dined at an excellent restaurant. We were well into our meal when I noticed four men walk in. Two of them stopped at the door, and two continued on into the restaurant. Wow, it was as if President Trump had walked into Wood’s Place in Camden. The waiters, manager, and even the chef suddenly appeared to welcome them and usher them to a choice table.

I asked out waiter. “Who are these men?”

“They are very important people,” he replied….”Would you care for a desert?”

Hummmm!