Festa Calabria

Day of Rest
Sunday got off to a late start. For me anyway. Cholo was up at 7 shuffling around the room and I'm not sure if he was trying to be quiet and not succeeding or trying to get me up and out of bed. I lean towards the latter because he spent the day anxiously awaiting the evening's event. Sunday was the crux of the Festa San Michele in Sciconi and since we learned of the lucky coincidence that it was happening while we were still here I think Cholo was anticipating it strongly. By noon Cholo was already taking a siesta and for the first time since we arrived I had some time to myself.

I hadn't been in the ocean since the few minutes I stole on our day trip to the Ionian coast so I walked through the piazza and down to the waterfront to have a little swim. The tiny beach was crowded with families enjoying the chamber of commerce weather. I swam around for 20 minutes and read my book for 20 more but the sun was overwhelming and the shadows short in the middle of the day. I made my way back to the fisherman's harbor and up the steep slope to Pizzo proper. When I entered Cholo was emerging from the bathroom and already had his best pair of pants on. The previous night I asked him exactly what time he wanted to be in Sciconi so I could make sure he was there when he wanted to be. He told me 6PM and by 2 he was already dressed in his best. Now I took a little nap and by 5:30 we were on our way.

The swimming lagoon at Pizzo.  The beach was to the right.

Mother Theresa goes for a walk
The tiny church in the tiny village of Sciconi is named for St. Michael but was recently dedicated to Mother Theresa. I guess the figured she's be canonized soon and they'd be one of the first churches on the block to be in line fo her good graces. As we pulled up to the square we caught one of the events I had been hoping to see: the Giganti. In this particular part of Calabria there's a tradtion of building these tall puppets with long robes. The young men in town wear these puppet costumes and dance around to the beat of drums during events just like this one. Shit, for all I know they do it for fun on the week-ends too. I haven't been able to find out to much about about how or why they exists but they seem to be modeled after saints or historical figures and we met a half dozen of them stomping down the road as we pulled up to the square.

Giganti, at rest.

 
Cholo made himself busy asking every old person he saw if they knew or remembered any of his relatives with little luck. He found a one-armed guy who used to work with Cousin Peppino in construction back in the sixties and that was about it. It seems all traces of the Catanias and Bonavotas had been erased from the village. In my mind they were lucky to get out because as charming as it is, the dusty half kilometer long village of Sciconi has very little going for it.

Cholo disappeared in to the church for more than an hour while the feast mass was held. It was being broadcast over loudspeakers so I listened to the priest drone on during the homily while I alternately took pictures and played games on my phone. Finally the mass ended and torch-bearing villagers began to line up in the square. Frankenstein's monster was noticibly absent.

A local horn & drum band cranked up a march while cheap fireworks snapped overhead. The song ended and the square lay silent for a minute when the priest called out a prayer and the square full of villagers began to sing a solemn verse and the procession made its way in two long lines down the road while the young men toted an illuminated statue of Mother Theresa alongside. The singing and chanting alternated as the entire village emptied down the road and it was at the same time serene and a bit spooky. Cholo said his goodbyes to the few oldsters he had been chatting with and we were off. He was likely looking at this place for the last time and I think he took great satisfaction at demonstrating to this village, even if no one one would know or remember it, that Carmella Bonavota Catania had sons that lived and prospered.