modicano The early afternoon sun caresses and soothes me, just annoyed by the fresh Mistral March: I close my eyes and try to imagine all those bridges that dominated the two streams, and Janni Pruni of Pozzo Mauro, that here, where the current Corso Umberto runs in three ways, they comforted each other Mothukanos flowing into the river around which developed the town became famous and powerful in the age of the county.
reopened his eyes, I find myself staring at the existing buildings that animate the main street of Modica and, almost without realizing it, I find myself face all'azzurrissimo sky with his eyes just stained with rapid white clouds. Why wonder what ancient Venice of the South is like the houses are supported on other houses and, almost taking her hand, to climb up the rock to create an amphitheater of steps but not homes.
Notice The district, once home of the Jews of the county, occupies the western promontory, known as Idria. Characterizes it up and down the streets, interrupted only by stairs, if you really want to test your luck, you can try to get dismayed invariably nell'intrigato maze that dominates the western part of the course.
Back on the main street of the city, before my eyes another flight of old homes is revealed impressive. Step in front of the Church of St. Peter, but my determination and occasional guidance, frenzied Concetta, requires me to go further: San Giorgio Modica starts. And that's where we aim straight.
When you are on the staircase, which is clearly seen from above as a key, solemn manifests the Cathedral, the same as Goethe called it a "finger pointing at the sky": simply awesome. There are photographs that you suddenly reveal that, although there is spent in front of you a thousand times, your eyes have never learned, or at least, never were able to see it. Still on the early steps of the staircase that starts from Corso Umberto, my eyes have taken the photography. Branded on the hearts of travelers of my land.
A bit to catch his breath, a bit to enjoy the last sun that still hasty rushes to the West, Concetta invites me to sit at the feet of the Church of San Giorgio. And so begins his story about the rivalry between the top and bottom of the city. Tensions symbolically focused on the statues of St. George and St. Peter. Even today, when the statue depicting the Holy knight who slew the dragon, is brought back along the old town, first in Modica Modica and then low, the only church that stubbornly keeps the door closed and the lights off, is the Cathedral of St. Peter.
regained her strength, we go inside the Church of San Giorgio, and despite the heavy air of a funeral in progress, Concetta guide me determined between the columns to the altar. Of course continuing with impunity to whisper stories and artistic curiosities. Just before leaving, stopped a last look on his words: "Did you see that coat of arms there?". The eagle, symbol of the city, in some ways emblematic of political power, makes a fine view of himself in the center of the cathedral. Inexplicable weirdness of a land.
The heartening of the now late afternoon sun, stands right in front of us, once outside the Church. And refreshed by the warmth, we resume our journey through the streets of hill to the north - Lace - which originally were born the first settlements. A street that slides down, right next to the Castle of the Counts - currently closed for renovation and is situated on a cliff overlooking the City - leads us before the birthplace of Salvatore Quasimodo, poet and Nobel laureate for literature in 1959. "Everyone is just the heart of the earth pierced by a ray of sun, evening and is immediately" in that context, read his short poem, engraved on a plaque right next to the door, it's like to live it, feel it imprinted on their focus skin.
few feet down, another illustrious Modica is still remembered today with undiminished pride: Thomas Campbell, scientist and philosopher who lived between the end of 1600 and the first half of the eighteenth century, to whose genius was in Sicily to Modica - in 1718 - the great English philosopher George Berkeley. The measure of a city is given basically by the greatness of its people. E Modica is really great.
Suspended between the lanes that separate the course from the Castle, we continue to lose in the history of the city, until, however, another photo captures my heart, resting on a thick and high wall, like a sinuous snake track down to the valley, I look up attempt targeting the Clock Tower which stands above us. All around fades as the day and on a white palette begins to take shape that image: the dark blue sky, white clouds and nestled in the center of a bounding walls, a dial, which continuously scans the time. And always at the same time, the ceaseless flow of the growth rate hikes hands with soft clouds that come alive on the beautiful carpet that is the sky of Modica.
After the dizziness that leaves you in that picture, we continue the descent towards the busy streets of the city. But the call of seventy piano teacher of concepts - which for some reason she just loves to tell their adventures - we should pause just before one of the side walls of the Church of Santa Maria di Betlem. Placed on a large and often grand staircase entrance to one of several houses that characterize the top of Modica, while continuing to borrow recklessly Concetta promises with the teacher, I take this opportunity to enjoy the fresh air of history that goes, but not forgotten. Suddenly, then, the quiet is broken dall'anziana owner and the adjoining staircase that, politely, apologize for the inconvenience, as it inevitably affects the exit from the house. But to be forgiven - yourself - generously offered us a chair or if you really feel offended by his need to leave the house, the limit can also accommodate us, waiting for his return. A smile, a sincere and spontaneous smile, is the only answer to disarming humanity to a woman who knows what out of the century, certainly not ours.
On completion of the telephone conversation with the strenuous efforts of a concerto for four hands, Concetta - that despite his age of 22 seems to have already lived 40 to the rhythms of life that takes, I do not know whether it is right but so - remove the serene insouciance from my face reminding me how much there is to walk. A paved road, crossed by high balconies that bind dwellings placed one before the other, in front of us entrance of the Church of Santa Maria di Betlem. I do not like the interiors of churches - and Concetta knows it - but insists to go for two reasons: the arched entrance to the Chapel with decorative elements Arabs, Normans and Catalans, one of the most beautiful monuments that architecture has produced in Sicily at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and especially the monumental crib, set up in 1882 by Friar Benedict Papal could be hours to fix it so amazing is the eyes of those before you pour. The heart of the city preserved in the rocks and the pulsating life that flows inside: This is the Nativity by Fra Benedetto, but not limited to, the monumental work intended to express the universal value the birth of Jesus, come into the world for the salvation of all mankind, and does so by inserting into the landscape the homes of the various peoples who inhabited the earth at the side of the caves are so typical of the place and the minaret Arab hut Africa.
It is inexplicable that such a marvel to continue to survive hidden to the rest of the world.
resurfaced near the chaotic center of Modica, still lost in the memory of the work of art young abused and locked inside the glass cage, we move in the direction of St. Peter. A bit distracted because obviously, a little for his restless desire to tell, Concetta advantage of even short road to speak of another folk tradition: the Madonna-Vasa Vasa. What to tell the truth, it is fair to note that nothing to do with the other famous Vasa Vasa-of Sicilian origin, the former regional governor Totò Cuffaro.
After a busy Holy Week, Easter morning - far from 1645 - the feast of the Madonna-Vasa Vasa represents the meeting of the Risen Christ and the Madonna herself. The latter, which started in procession from the Church of Santa Maria di Betlem, through the streets of the city, as does the statue of Christ, started by the Church of San Pietro. For hours they seek without ever meeting, at least until noon, when the height of City Hall is the long awaited hug. The statue of Mary, glimpsed in the distance, the risen son, drops to the ground a black cloak, freeing dozens of white doves whose flight will be favorable for the harvest of the year. So, with a new bright blue and red dress, Madonna runs to embrace the Risen Christ, kissed him and blessed him, gestures that are repeated two more times in front of two churches of San Pietro and Santa Maria.
"Even today, it seems, the man is strongly linked to movements and traditions that take us back through the centuries. You lose the real meaning, perhaps, but still remains something to tie the thread of memory. " This is contradictory thoughts at the end of the story of concepts.
To the astonishment of passers-by - I guess that is the disconcerting sight of two guys who gesticulate on a sidewalk now show the way to the south, now that the other side, even improvising a strange ballet depicting, for caregivers without audio, just two crazy dealing with the dysfunctions of their minds - that is, indifferent to the astonishment of passers-by, we stood on the steps of the other Cathedral Church of Modica, St. Peter. Twelve statues, called by the people Santoni, live the generous tiers of access to Church, itself a monument of UNESCO World Heritage List. No time to count the twelve sculptures, Concetta already led me to one of the jewels of the city: The Teatro Garibaldi. Reopened in 2004, is a little gem that reproduces in miniature theaters in large cities, with its audience, its three tiers of boxes are very elegant, the gallery and the storied time recently with a great painting, an oil on canvas by master Piero Guccione. Beyond the disquisition on the name - I find it ironic that in a city that gave birth to famous people, we should tie a local heritage all'inflazionato name of the hero of two worlds - I can not find full agreement with the my amiable guide: Theater is really a pearl of rare beauty and charm.
Greeted by the latest tentative reflections of light, with shadows that slowly stretch all around us, impose want to see where the ancient river Mothukanos was covered by the road. So Concetta, tireless, brings me right up to Montserrat, the hill to the south of the city. Before, lost in the distance between uncultivated and wild tangles of trees, the bridge of the highway that links Modica Ragusa is displayed in all its immense height. And just below us, instead, an opening, dark and smelly, it marks the domination of man over nature. What once was the river that ran through the town of Modica, today is an underground tunnel to get through until you reach the other side.
few yards away, again in the direction of Modica, you can find the Sanctuary of the Madonna delle Grazie, built following the discovery in May of 1615 a tablet depicting the Madonna holding her Child. In order not to miss anything, dissatisfied with the anomaly of two Mother Church, the modicani can boast of a third patron, just Our Lady of Grace, as well as a painting on the vault of the apse reads: "Ecce Mater Tua Mothuca. What we do affects visually just arrived before the shrine is, inevitably, the colonnade of the main elevation very similar to the Cathedral of San Giorgio, but unlike the latter, placed there to support anything. In fact, it seems that after the terrible earthquake of 1693, the main facade of the sanctuary was riammodernizzata in late Baroque style, work soon stopped probably because of lack of funds.
now accompanied by street lights, it only remains to place his signature on the beautiful picture painted in an afternoon wandering through the past and present of Modica: climbing the highest points in the two panoramic and former County as places before a mirror, the eye sweeps over the town. Pizzo Belvedere on one side and the overview of the other, greet visitors, which inevitably incredulous and amazed, assists in the singular backdrop of the two balconies in the city. And as leaning from windows, the view satisfies the senses and the spirit, without fear of comparisons to the incomparable beauty of the views, torn between the feeling of hovering magically in the air and the perception of falling down.
Completing the memories, smells and tastes of a land that lands in the future full of tradition: the chocolate of Modica, the memory as the main theme of the kitchen, rotisserie and pastries that contain the best of traditional Sicilian .
And in leaving what centuries ago was the center of life in the south east of the island, came to my mind Gesualdo Bufalino's words: "A theater was the country, a proscenium of pink stone, a festival of wonders. It smelled like jasmine in the evening. I would end Do not ever talk about it, go back to look at himself in a faraway mirage of so tender ... "
