From Lucy to Venus

Feb. 13-14

We set out Monday on something that I naively expected to be routine and simple. I needed a little cash from an ATM, or bancomat, as they are known here.

We walked more than two hours. No bancomat, but we did find the Sepulcher of Santa Lucia. 

It’s a large octagonal structure built in what may have been a small quarry. There are lots of quarries here, and many of them have things built in them. (The quarry outside our hotel, we are told, was once used as a theater.)

The sepulcher was closed, so we stood at a railing to peer down at the entrance several feet below ground level. 

This is the martyr’s traditional burial place. Her remains were taken from the city centuries ago and moved around Europe.

There is an effigy of the saint at the Duomo and it is carried in a procession every year. I believe it contains some of her remains, which were returned to the city a few years ago.

Next to the sepulcher is a Franciscan church, the Basilica de Santa Lucia del Sepulcro.

This is a church distinct from the Santa Lucia near the Duomo in Ortygia. The altarpiece of the church in Ortygia is "The Burial of St. Lucy," painted by Caravaggio.

I learned later that the Basilica del Sepulcro claims to be church for which Caravaggio painted it. How it got moved, I'm not sure. The church by the sepulcher has made efforts to get the painting back.

We sat in the basilica for a few minutes before it closed for the afternoon. 

I’ve visited a few Franciscan churches before, St. Bonaventure in Paterson, for instance, and found them different from most Roman Catholic churches that I have seen.

The side chapels, windows, and statuary often commemorate activities by various Franciscan brothers and sisters. 

The church has statues of St. Anthony of Padua and St. Francis, and one that may be Saint Clare of Assisi. It also has a large painting of a 20th century brother, the Blessed Gabriele Allegra, who was a missionary to China and translated the Bible into Chinese. He was born in Catania.

We wandered around the neighborhood after that and got good and lost. I had been trying to keep the tower of Madonna delle Lacrime in sight as a landmark, but had lost it.

At one point we were walking single file on a narrow sidewalk with two lanes of traffic racing directly at us. I was starting to wear down. 

Then we saw a street name that sounded familiar, Via Luigi Bignami. There was no one in the side street so we ducked in there to check the map. The fewer people who see you check a map, the better, especially if you’re lost.

We were less than a kilometer from the Villa Politi, and east of it instead of west. We were actually walking on that uncomfortable street that I had avoided before.

We stayed in for the rest of the afternoon and then went downstairs to dinner.

The menu was a pasta called trofie served in a creamy sauce made with pumpkin and sausage. After that came “roast meat” (we think it was pork) with mushrooms and potatoes. As we usually do, we ordered one of each dish and shared them.

The wine was Sicilian Cabernet Sauvignon. Wine made from this grape has a flavor that I can’t quite describe. You can tell how the wine will taste from the aroma. 

Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes I put up with it.

The aroma and flavor were in this wine, but were not as strong as in California or French Cabernet Sauvignons I’ve tried.

Tuesday, St. Valentine’s Day, was an all-around strange day. 

We started by moving to our third room this week. 

The first had a phone that didn’t work, and then on our second day here, construction began in the room next door. Worse than the hammering and sawing was the smell of a chemical the workers were using.

So the hotel moved us to the other side of the second floor on Thursday, the 9th.

The new room, 201, was fine until the construction crew started working in 202 on Monday, the 13th.

The hotel moved us to the third floor on Tuesday, probably with no neighbors, since we are such a pain in the ass. They even comped us dinner Monday night.

But that’s not all. Gout, even a small incident like the one I’ve been having, wears me out. I was getting tired of being one-handed, too. So I popped an anti-inflammatory.

I have to use this stuff, Indomethacin, sparingly because it gets me so high. I can’t take it if I’m going to drive. When I took it at the office years ago, I’d warn everybody that I was not to use sharp tools or make firm decisions.

So here I was, fortified with weirdness, leading Joanna on a hunt for bancomats. The lady at the desk gave us accurate directions to one not far from the Archeological Park. It was unable, however, to complete an international transaction. 

We followed other directions, as well as we could understand them since they were spoken in Italian, but had no luck. 

Meanwhile, I’m leaning on my walking stick, stepping sideways sometimes into Joanna, and trying not to fall asleep on my feet. I was having a better time than I should have been having. I was somewhere else. This stuff puts space cake into the shade.

We stopped at a gelateria/bar for some coffee and water. We may have had something to eat, too. I can’t remember.

A lady there gave us directions to another bancomat. This one was next to the post office that we had passed earlier.

We came to a device called a Postamat. I wasn’t sure, but had a picture of myself using the machine and getting 200 euros’ worth of stamps.

And yes, the real bancomat was a few steps farther up the street.

So now we were ready for the Archeological Museum.

When we were in the Catacombs of San Giovanni, we saw replicas of some of the more important inscriptions and decorations. The originals are in a section of the museum devoted to the Christian and Byzantine periods of Syracuse.

One artefact, an inscription for a woman named Euskia, is from the middle of the fourth century. It mentions that Euskia died on the feast day of St. Lucy. It is the earliest reference to the veneration of Lucy, who died a few decades earlier, in 304.

An elaborate grave lid is from the sarcophagus of Adelphia, apparently a woman of a wealthy family. It is a large marble plaque with an inscription identifying her and showing a portrait of her with her husband. 

It also has carvings of Biblical stories, ranging from incidents in the life of the Virgin Mary to Abraham and Isaac, that fill the rest of the space.

The hit of the day was in the section devoted to the Hellenistic and Roman period. Known as the Venere Landolina, for the man who discovered it, it is one of a class of statues that derive from a Greek original and are categorized as “Venus Pudica,” or Modest Venus.

Venus is caught in a moment of trying to cover herself. The intricate work of the hand and folds of fabric as she holds her ineffectual wrap in place is the forerunner of Baroque.

I have no recollection of the time when we left the museum. All I know is that it was fairly early and that was about all I could handle.

I wound up sleeping most of the afternoon, and when I woke up everything was different. My hand felt so much better that I was laughing out loud. That’s one of the upsides of an inflammation: when it gets better, even if it’s not all better, you feel great.

The hotel restaurant was closed Tuesday night, so we took a cab to a restaurant calle O’scita on the Via O’scita in Ortygia.

We had carbonara de mare, similar to Roman carbonara, except that it replaces the guanciale with tuna and shrimp. Not a bad swap.

The house was out of the Etna rosso, but had a wine from Messina using the same grape, Nerello Mascalese. The best I can think to describe it is to say it had a rich, full flavor, with a touch of bite.

The second course was tuna with pistachio.

We had that with a local Nero d’Avola. Those grapes grown in Sicily always make for a smooth, comfort wine.

I am ready to call this a wrap and promise to send more trivia later.

Good night, all. I hope you know where your bancomats are.

Harry