Something Fishy in Catania, Sicily OR Chuck Goes Too Far for Heart Healthy Fish Snack

When I travel in Europe, I live for the open air markets, which are different than the flea markets that we flock to in America, which mainly sell antiques.  The open air markets of Italy and France and most other European countries offer the fresh produce of the city--the meats, the cheeses, the fish, the vegetables, the fruits. 

That day--in Catania, the second largest city in Sicily and which happens to lie at the foot of Mt. Etna (a still very active volcano)--we arrived early in the morning at the open air market, eager to browse the stalls and mingle among the locals and the tourists.

Catania has an interesting history.  Situated between Messina and Syracuse it was destroyed by earthquakes twice--once in 1169 and then again in 1692.  The city also had to contend with volcanic eruptions from Mt. Etna--the most notable occurring in 1669.  The city is mostly paved in a black pavement, made from the lava, so it is difficult to forget the history as you walk around. 

The energy was intoxicating.  

And all would have gone well . . . but because we were rushing to get to the market, we neglected to give Chuck his usual snack, and in retrospect, that small event sparked a embarrassing incident.

For the Chuckster arrived hungry, his big stomach growling, and it is never a smart idea to bring a hungry cat to a place that has food--delicious food--around every corner.

Even so, who could have anticipated that a cat, even a rascal cat like Chuck, would take matters into his own hands and want to leap from the safety of my smart bag into a display of fish?

But let me begin at the beginning.

We arrived at an already crowded market. The stalls were open, their umbrellas a colorful sight.  Vendors had their wares on display.  People were milling about, making purchases. 

We minded our own business, as usual.  We wanted to browse only.  We decided to buy some bread and cheese and prosciutto for later on.  A small picnic for lunch.  So we wandered over and made our purchases, and Chuck barely whimpered. 

Our purchases did not include fish.  After all, we were tourists staying at a hotel.  We had no means of frying fish.

But still, as we passed the fish stalls, we saw octopus, snails, tiny clams, eels and rays, tuna, and were intrigued by what seemed to be thousands of sardines laying about, their silver skins gleaming--fresh.

     And we expected to smell fish.  Nothing.  That’s how fresh they were--brought in that morning from Mazara del Vallo, Italy’s largest fishing port or one of the smaller ports in Sciacca or Favignara and hauled in by the local fishermen.  

But the Chuckster, well, any cat has super sensory smell capability and from his perch, he caught a whiff of the sardines.  

Not that I blamed him, but I felt him stir.  For the first time.  Which should have been a warning sign.

It wasn’t because when you are in the open market, it is so easy to become distracted by the stirring of life there.  

So he jumped, out of my bag toward the open display case--landing on the small wooden table just to the left of the basket that held the sardines.  A very strategic jump which he must have calculated would put him near enough to begin his own private feasting on the fish.

“Chuck.”

Luckily, the owner, the proprietor, was on the other side of the stall, dealing with a customer who had placed a rather large order so he was up to this point oblivious to the jump.

I scooped up the rascal, who now smelled like sardines because his paws had landed in some kind of goop that the table was drenched in.

“You are in the biggest trouble.”

But he didn’t act like he was in trouble.  Nor did he act contrite.  He only meowed, disappointed that he’d lost the opportunity to snack down on a sardine. 

I swiveled away from the fish stall and began hurrying away from the market.  I didn’t want a Sicilian fish monger mad at me and my cat. 

“Yuck, Chuck.  You smell like fish.”

He looked insulted, but he had the good sense to say nothing.  He didn’t even meow.  

        WILD POINT ISLAND, MY PARANORMAL ROMANCE, IS NOW AVAILABLE IN MASS MARKET PAPERBACK AND E BOOK FORMAT FROM AMAZON.COM AND BARNESANDNOBLE.COM   

         AVERAGE READER REVIEW 4.7 STARS.  

 

Chuck Visits Sacrificial Altar in Siracusa

           While we were touring Sicily on the Taormina side, I had a brainstorm.

Teatro Greco, one of the great theatres of the Classical Period--dating back to 5th century B.C.--was nearby. The theatre was in ruins, yes, but the ruins were magnificent. 

Because the ruins were carved out of rock, I thought that Chuck, my rascal cat, would appreciate the stop. 

After all, what cat wouldn’t want to see the ruins of an ancient theatre where the plays of Euripedes were once shown?  Where you could sit anywhere in the immense outdoor theatre on the ancient stones and hear what was being said on the stage below (without the benefit of microphones or speakers) because of the marvels of the ancient acoustic system. Where you could feel the cooling breezes from the nearby Ionian Sea in the stands because of the foresight of the planners, who chose to build the theatre near the water and take advantage of the geography.

Well, unfortunately, Chuck is not a fan of history or geography.

Usually, you have to entice him with a good story.

Ruins are ruins after all.

So I dragged my Chuck to Teatro Greco, sat him down with a SNACK, and tried to explain:

These ancient stones are not just stones . . .

Look around you . . . 

(I tried to impress him with the immense size.) This theatre was the largest ever built by the Greeks.  It had 67 rows, divided into nine sections with eight aisles.  It was eventually modified by the Romans who adapted the theatre to show different kinds of spectacles, including circus games. 

Over here is the Roman Amphitheatre, one of the top five amphitheatres left by the Romans.  Here gladiators fought and slaves were whipped into the center of a battle between wild beasts.  

For entertainment, I added.

Chuck looked mildly interested.

And here, is the Altar of Heron, the longest altar ever built: 75 feet wide by 653 feet long.  It was used by the Greeks to sacrifice hundreds of animals at once.  

But probably not cats, I added. 

Chuck scooted over.  I had caught his attention.  He stared at the altar.  What was he thinking? That how could such a terrible thing have happened?  

       Of course, I wasn’t finished.  I wanted to show him the stone quarries nearby, which were used as prisons in ancient times, but Chuck had had enough. 

Sure, he was sort of impressed by the ancient stones of Teatro Greco.  He scooted up and down the steps, sniffing, his way of discovering the past.  

And I let him. Finally, when it was time to go, I said:

Just think, Chuckie, if you lived back in the 5th century B.C., and were a Sicilian cat, this might have been your playground . . . and you’d be saying Ciao rather than Meow.

         My paranormal romance, Wild Point Island, is now available in mass market paperback and e book from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.  

Neumarian Uprising - Escapement - Ciara Knight

Neumarian Uprising

    We need your help! Thanks to our spy, Ciara Knight, we are able to communicate with you today via blogs, Facebook, Twitter and other social media.

    The Neumarian uprising has begun. We are fighting for freedom and equality for all, but we need your help. Ciara informed us that you might want to know more about the uprising and why we ask you to risk your lives for our cause. To answer these questions I’ve agreed to let Ciara tell my sister’s, Raeth’s, story about her captivity. It will be free for you on a site called Amazon until March 1, 2013.

   Our spies have told us this will help spread the word and find more recruits for our rebellion against the tyrannical queen. You can help by simply downloading a free copy of Weighted, a prequel to the Neumarian Chronicles. If you are intrigued and wish to follow our uprising, 

    Escapement, book I of The Neumarian Chronicles, will be available for only $2.99 until March 1, 2013.

     Escapement is told by Princess Semara. Don’t hold the fact Semara is a princess against her like I did, there is more to her than you can possibly imagine.

     Here is a brief explanation of her telling of our uprising:

Ten years after the great war of 2185 the queen’s reign is threatened by uprisings and fear. In celebration of my sixteenth birthday it is my duty as princess to sacrifice a slave to be initiated into the ruling council, solidifying my mother’s empire. When my own erratic powers surface I’m captured and tried for treason. Slaves hate me, my mother wants me executed, and my only chance of survival rests in the hands of a young man, Ryder Arteres, whose sister I sentenced to death.

   What people are saying about Escapement:

“A heady mix of action adventure and steampunk -- leavened with a dash of romance -- ESCAPEMENT offers up its fair share of thrills, horrors and heart-pounding moments. A strong start to a captivating new series.”

-- Jana Oliver, author of The Demon Trapper's Daughter

“A riveting tale of justice, mercy, honor and love. Take a deep breath and hold on, because you'll be turning the pages of Escapement quickly. Three unlikely comrades, Princess Semara, Ryder, and his sister Raeth, embark on a journey that will alter their lives forever. The beautiful love story nestled into these action-packed scenes will make you sigh and remember why you love to love. After reading the prequel Weighted, I knew this story would be amazing, and it was. Ciara Knight truly has a gift for creating awesome worlds and characters you won't forget.”

--Lindi Peterson--Award winning author of Summer's Song.

“Betrayal, secrets, and a rebellion send readers on a grand adventure, caught in the plight to discover Semara’s gifts and purpose.”

--Alex J Cavanaugh, author of Amazon best sellers CassaStar and CassaFire

“The most unmissable series ever! I couldn't stop reading, the action and romance too breathtaking to break the spell!”

--ARC review by Sudah on Goodreads

"A courageous heart-stopping journey by young people to save their kind."

--Hildie McQueen, bestselling author of Where the Four Winds Collide

If you’d like to see a peak into our world, please view this short clip on You Tube. http://youtu.be/MyasLq8ZpYg

If you are now ready to join our fight, please add Escapement to your TBR shelf on Goodreads here. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17376403-escapement 

Shout out on all your social media sites, and tell everyone you know to stand up and fight.

Be Bold.

Be Brave.

Be Free.

In the name of the rebellion,
Ryder Arteres

Rafflecopter giveaway:

<a id="rc-7920492" class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/7920492/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>

<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>

   Escapement can be found at Amazon.

Casa Cuseni-The Infamous Sicilian House Chuck Didn't Quite See

Just one of the stunning architectural displays in the gardens

 

          We climbed the steep incline of Via Leonardo da Vinci to see a house.

But not just any house.

Chuck, my rascal cat and world traveler, loves a good story and when I sat him down before we took off for Sicily, and told him that I wanted to visit a certain house, he tilted his whiskered face to one side and dared me to impress him. 

“Chuck, Casa Cuseni was left to Daphne Phelps’ aunt in 1948 by her uncle--British painter, Robert Kitson.  She lived in England, and she asked Daphne to travel to Taormina and sell the house for her, but when Daphne saw the house, she fell in love with it and decided instead to live there and open the house up as a Bed and Breakfast.”

“This happened, of course, after World War II, and Daphne needed the support of the local Mafia boss Don Ciccio, which she somehow managed to procur.  She also managed to attract the rich and famous from Europe and America, including Greta Garbo, Henry Faulkner, Tennessee Williams, Bertrand Russell, John Steinbeck, Leonard Bernstein, El Salvador Dali, Truman Capote, Oscar Wilde, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck and so many others as her guests for the next sixty years.  

“Her house, or rather villa, was originally constructed by her uncle of stone, marble, wood and terra cotta and then overlaid with a golden yellow stucco and became known as the most beautiful house in Taormina for a number of reasons. 

Casa Cuseni from the rear

         One was the dining room.  Her uncle commissioned Sir Frank Brangwyn to create the dining room, the furniture, and paint the frescoes on the walls.  

Casa Cuseni, a villa, is considered the most beautiful house in Taormina

“The house was also known for its gardens, fruit trees, and roses, and its views of Mt. Etna and the Ionian Sea.”

A peek at the gardens

Well, Chuck finally perked up when he heard the word garden.  

Can you imagine wandering through . . .

I’d read Daphne’s account of her life at Casa Cuseni called A House in Sicily--about her adventures running the villa and about her fast friendship with her housekeeper, Concetta.  Daphne had passed away in 1995 at the age of 94, and her house was closed for the moment, as plans were made to renovate and turn it into a museum or, perhaps, open it again as a Bed and Breakfast.  Nevertheless, I was determined to see this house.  

I’d contacted her publisher and eventually after many emails made arrangements to visit the house.  Initially Mimma, the daughter of Concetta, the woman who’d been Daphne’s housekeeper, agreed to give us a tour, but at the last moment she was called away and an older woman appeared to give us the tour instead.  

She spoke only a Sicilian dialect of Italian and it was difficult to communicate with her, so it took me awhile to realize that the woman who was walking us up and down the rows of the garden and pointing out the high points of the architecture of the villa was Concetta.  

Concetta walking amidst the rows of fresh produce that she grew

The famous sundial

        When I made the connection, I felt like I was in the presence of a rock star.  

“You,” I said to her in my best Italian. “You are Concetta.”

“Yes. I am Concetta.”

Concetta, smiling

“You have seen so much.  You must know so many stories.” And, of course, I was thinking of all the famous people who had come to the villa and stayed there.  All the famous people that Concetta had cooked for.  

She laughed.  “Yes. I could tell you many stories.” 

But she was too much of a lady to do so.  Instead she continued to show us around the magnficent garden and then she took us into the house for a tour.  

Interior shot, courtesy of www.casacuseni.org

      But that was then, and this was now.

The villa, originally slated to be reopened as a museum, had instead been reopened to the public as a Bed and Breakfast.  

Now we were back in Sicily, in Taormina, and this time we were traveling with Chuck.

“What do you say, Chuck?  Do you want to see Casa Cuseni? The gardens?”

So that explains why we were trekking up the steep incline, and I was both excited and a bit nervous.  I’ve learned from long experience that you can never go back.  I had such fond memories of Casa Cuseni and Concetta.

       Did I dare tempt fate?  What if Casa Cuseni had changed?  What if Concetta was no longer there?

And that’s when I decided.  

I didn’t turn that final corner.  I turned around and started back down the hill.  

       "Sorry, Chuck," I said.  "But I want my memories to stay as they are."

The lovely outside gate with a bell buzzer that I couldn't push

      

WILD POINT ISLAND, MY PARANORMAL ROMANCE, IS NOW AVAILABLE, IN

MASS MARKET PAPERBACK AND E BOOK FORMAT FROM AMAZON.COM AND 

BARNESANDNOBLE.COM.