Images of Mistretta

Quite a Meal!

As we descended the steps of the hotel, it appeared that everyone in town had joined the original procession. There was total silence until one young Italian boy stepped up to us and began talking in Italian. When he realized that we could not converse in Italian and that no one in town spoke English, we were certainly at a stalemate. I don't know if it was fear or desperation that made me reach for my passport and show it to him. After closely perusing the passport, a wide smile spread across his face as he lifted the document above his head and yelled "Mistretta" to the crowd. A huge roar arose from the townspeople as they converged upon us to offer hugs and handshakes all around.
We were whisked off to someone's house and made to sit in the kitchen where immediately large quantities of wine appeared on the table. As we began to indulge in the wine, a number of women began to cook, what seemed enough food, to feed the entire town. There were meats and cheeses, pasta, lasagna, salads, and even more wine. We were introduced to dozens of people, who they were, I had no idea. All that I remember is that we were treated as long lost relatives who had come home to visit. I don't know if I ever ate or drank as much as I did that day in Mistretta.

First Impressions

To say that we were nervous as we checked into the hotel is an understatement. Once we were settled into our room, we glanced out the window to see if anyone was still gathered in front of the hotel. To our astonishment, the crowd had grown even larger with others joining them each time we peered from the window. Now we were really confused and not quite certain as to how to proceed. It was late afternoon and we were starving, but did we dare leave our room? Who did they think we were? Were they hostile or just curious? Finally, the basic urge of hunger got the best of us and we decided to face the music. Mustering up some courage, we decided to leave the hotel in search of food.

A "stroll" through Mistretta

Setting foot in Mistretta reminded me of the small mining communites near my hometown. The streets were narrow with houses aligned closely on both sides. There were people in front of many of the houses and as we wandered through town looking for any hotel, we noticed that more and more people were following closely behind us. Talk about strangers in a strange land, we could not speak Italian and no one else could speak English. As we walked on in eerie silence, we noticed that we now had a procession of more that 100 people following us. The only thing that I kept thinking about was the conversation about the Mafia with the young Italian student on the train . I was certain that these people were as wary of us as we were of them. Finally, we stumbled upon a small hotel.

Mistretta, Sicily

As we climbed the mountainous road, we were able to see Mistretta in the distance. Sitting at the peak of the mountain, we noticed that all the houses were constructed with stone from the surrounding hillsides. The bus soon stopped at our destination and we left the bus with our fellow passengers.

UP to Mistretta

Leaving the train station, we quickly discovered that our only means of transportation to Mistretta was an old school bus. We climbed on board, along with Italians bringing home chickens, vegetables, and pets, and began our journey along a winding, single-lane road to the mountain top where the town of Mistretta was located. Naturally, we were the center of attention on the bus ride and paranoia quickly set in. Every sideward glance or whispered tone, convinced us that everyone was talking about us.

Taking the Train to Mistretta

I have to preface this post by stating that I assumed that my grandfather was born in Mistretta, Sicily since his name was Alfonso Mistretta. Years later, I came to realize that this was not the case. I guess that happens whenever you are young and know everything that there is to know. However, our trip to Mistretta was quite an experience. Leaving Taormina by train, we continued by rail to Messina and proceeded along the Northern coast of Sicily to a small train station that was the closest to Mistretta.

On the train, we met a young Italian who was studying medicine in the United States and became involved in a lengthy discussion about our lives. During this conversation, I asked the young man if it were true that the Mafia was still active in Sicily. He immediately placed his hand over my mouth and warned me that I was to never utter that word publicly while visiting Sicily. Lesson learned. Other than this blunder, we had a delightful conversation until we arrived at our train station.