Mmmm. gelatto...

make mine chocolate & hazelnut... (this time).

Today is Ash Wednesday, and I don't want to loose or discount the significance and the somber in this day... but I'll have to admit, it is difficult when I am sitting outside in February - a vast orange grove to my left, stunning peacocks to my right, and an array of hidden birds calling out their songs of dawn from the lush foliage all around.

The rising sun, now throwing the eastern sky in to a deep blush of orange to match the fruits on the trees, will soon chase the chill away with its radiant warmth. Yesterday, we broke open the Africa Suitcases to find our summer sandals. By evening, we wished for our boots back. As the sun dissapears, it is clearly winter here in Sicily.

Our first day here we woke (at noon) very literally to a celebration. A boisterous group of Italian women had collected next door on the veranda of the home my parents share (like a duplex) with Meema and Guissepi. Yesterday was the culmination of a two weeks festival - a celebration of all the good in the world before entering this season of lent that begins today. Work was called off for the day, and within an hour of our waking up, we found ourselves down teh street at a huge feast. Everyone had brought their favorite dishes... and as we walked in the door, plates piled and dripping with pasta and lasagne and sausages was suddenly in each of our hands. I put mine down, opting instead for the fresh tomatoes & fennel and roasted eggplant & redpeppers... but soon discovered that it was best to keep my pasta plate close to me... as a decoy of sorts. For as long as my dish was filled, people stopped bringing me more food.

Conversations, between their sparce English and my miniscule Italian (which I think is more high-school Spanish cross-overs), centered around people they knew who had visited Oregon, Washington, Ohio...anywhere in the States really, the amazing dessert trays that were brought out, the fact that i look just like my mother (or my father, depending on the conversation), Harrison's bright eyes, and the singular question... Obama or Clinton?

Today I wished I spoke Italian. Wish I'd have been studying it for years. It is so beautifuly a lanugage - and these people are beautiful in their vibrancy... and I would love to talk to them.

Apparently the Sicilians celebrate the last day before lent seriously because the evening found us in teh town of Misterbianco surrounded by confetti and silly string and squeeky mallots to bonk everyone on the heads as you walked through the crowd.

A dazzling parade that lasted for hours, music blaring from enormous speakers, people donned in elaborate costumes - thick with glitter and flair and imagination - dancing and dancing and dancing. Female impersonators abounded... and danced amazingly well in heals I noticed. These outlandish floats held more dancers, their energy rocking the deck so hard I'm quite surprised they kept their balance. But the highlight of the parade was the fantastical dresses. Women walking through with Elizabethan hoop skirts 4 feet around. Women with an entire countryside built around them - or a ship sailing through billowing waves - or a colluseum... all worn like an elegant dress and paraded through the streets amongst the dancing people and music and confetti. It was magical indeed.

postscript: my spell check isn't working... now you guys get to see what a horrible speller/typer I truly am. You still love me though, right?