Shoot the Breeze #8: Catania, Sicily, Where I was raised
Hi Friends!
I'm sorry I haven't been more on top of publishing the Shoot the Breeze newsletter to paid subscribers, as promised. I'm still dealing with a few brain issues since the operation, but it's nothing to worry about as I have found a solution.
In the future, I feel this private newsletter needs to be different from California Mishegoss. We cover things related to California there, so there is no need to repeat that here.
So, I will cover stories that hopefully will get you talking about places, food, and other lifestyle events around the globe.
I also plan to add stories of places I've been with links to that personal story.
I hope you approve of my direction in this newsletter and enjoy future posts.
Kicking off this week, I'll feature the City where I was raised, Catania, Sicily.
I was born at the Palermo airport in Sicily when my parents were returning to Rome, where my Dad was stationed.
My Mom was seven months pregnant with me, and
her Doctor advised her not to travel, but my Dad needed to get back.
Her water broke at the airport two months early, and the rest is for another time. Suffice it to say I came into the world, and she had to stay at the hospital for a bit in Palermo, and then we went to Catania to be with my grandparents.
I love and miss Catania and haven't been back in years. I hope to return one day to visit my grandparents' homestead.
Gracie per aver letto e goditi questo post (Thanks for reading, and please enjoy this post).
Mark & Patti
3 days in Catania: the attraction of the real Sicily
by David Szmidt, KIWI.com
The sun beats down hard on Catania’s streets, streets made of black, volcanic rock that only serves to further heat the steaming feet of the scattered groups of people milling about Piazza del Duomo.
As shirtless, suntanned children zip between them on bicycles, a group of teenagers challenge each other to keepie uppies with a football that’s seen better days. A group of elegantly-dressed adults wait in the shadow of the cathedral before a Mercedes pulls up. Smoothly, they vanish.
All the while, just out of shot, behind the University building away to the left, a column of white rises. Mount Etna looms over the city like an uneasy thought; forgotten amid the bustle of the day, but always there to snag your attention when you least expect it. We were going to climb it, but I’d busted my foot.
Read more about the real Sicily
Saint Agatha's Breasts
by Gastro Obscura
What’s the first thing you think of when looking at these delectable pastries? Your mind isn’t in the gutter—it’s spot on. Nuns around the ancient port city of Catania, located on Sicily’s east coast, paid tribute to their patron saint by baking pastries shaped like her breasts. Today, bakers around the city carry on the tradition.
According to the story, not only did 15-year-old Saint Agatha of Sicily refuse to abandon her faith, she also rejected a Roman governor’s advances. As such, she was punished by having her breasts amputated, then died of her wounds in prison on February 5, 251 A.D. Frescoes of the mutilated martyr are easily recognizable. She’s often depicted holding her breasts on a platter.