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March 29, 2013 The altar boys go first.
Then comes a fallen Jesus.
Brawny young shoulders carry him aloft. Comes a dolorous Mary. Out of church we go. Down a long steep staircase. Balance carefully now. Down. Down. Down. Into the crowd. Past my little Alis market and into the night, thick with funeral song.
*** October 21, 2012 When I throw open the shutters in the morning, the cupola is there, like a gift. The color of sweet latte. It is moody, changeable, capriciosa. 
Click on the photo to advance to the next slide.
Note: Slides of the Cathedral of San Giorgio in Ragusa Ibla. September 25, 2012 No longer do I feel so completely alien. My fellow villagers have welcomed me with grace and charm. I love them madly. You’ll find these guys in their red chairs most evenings at their circolo operai, club for workers. (Be sure to stop and say hello when you come to town.) Can you guess their jobs?
From left to right Giovanni C: Gravedigger. His job does not make him sad, though he says it is wise to stay away from the cemetery at night, when souls take a walk. Giuseppe C: Classics teacher at secondary school (and president of the circolo). Giovanni M: Dogcatcher, retired. Giovanni S: Bread baker, retired. They used to call him “Il Principe del Pane,” the Prince of Bread. He made 20 different kinds of loaves everyday. It was hard work, very hot in the summer, and he’s glad to be retired. Pietro di S: Waiter. Retired. Angelo E: Gravedigger. Works with Giovanni C. *** June 3, 2012 It’s the annual insanity that Sicilians call festa. The village aristocrats overlook the piazza from the comfort of their balconi, watching us wait for San Giorgio the Dragon Slayer.
Inside the church, the young men chew their fingers, get pep talks from the old guys, and send up lionesque roars. This is how they get psyched up to haul Saint George and his rearing steed around town on their shoulders.
The frisky altar boys horse around.
Then with a roar, my dragon-slayer is hoisted into the evening air amid wild applause, tears, and a squall of confetti. Even I–a non-Catholic who barely knows one saint from another–have a pounding heart. (Saint George belongs to me!)
He prances around town for a while and then the pyromaniacs get to work.
They light the fuses for the gran finale con artistico e fantasmagorico spettacolo piromusicale. Balconies are jammed with people and kids are stacked on top of parents and grandparents. The whole village feels like it’s blowing up. Cinders land in your hair and singe your arms; babies wail in fright. You stumble out of the piazza choking on the thick stench of gunpowder, rush home thinking “Sicilians are nuts!” and watch the rest of the show from the relative safety of your house.
The next day they’re at it again. December 17, 2011 Bright red, a rosso the color of Rudolph’s nose, is the leitmotif of the season here in Southeast Sicily.  Political street theater in Catania on December 16, 2011  Ms. Santa was handing out "gifts" of scrolled paper that read "Merry Christmas. Monti's government is gifting you a cut in your pension." (A better kind of protest than throwing molotov cocktails, as in Greece, don't you think?)  Powdered wig, rider and horse at Siracusa's Festival of Santa Lucia, December 13  Santa Lucia, martyred patron saint of Siracusa, December 13  The band at the Feast of the Immaculate Conception in Scicli, December 8  Onlooker at Feast of the Immaculate Conception in Scicli, December 8  Altar boy at Feast of the Immaculate Conception in Ragusa Ibla, December 7  Woman going to mass in Modica  Mass-going woman's shoes Click to subscribe to BaroqueSicily. *** To learn more about Monti’s austerity package for Italy, click here. To learn more about Santa Lucia, click here.
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