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Being pregnant in Sicily

Here I am back in Milazzo, after a four month absence. I went back home to have our baby because the Sicilian hospitals – and staff – were not at all convincing. I stayed until the end of August, doing my duty through the high season, carrying my seven month bump through the humid terrace where curious diners congratulated me, and sat under the air-conditioning near the till when not dealing with customers. The best thing was that no one smoked any longer inside the bar. I just had to move my bump nearer to the would-be smokers and they would lover the cigarette and go scuttling outside, usually with a shamefaced smile, most unlike the typical defensive attitude I met with before. The other, most interesting phenomenon was how attitudes towards me changed. No longer the north-European foreigner, to be regarded with suspicion and kept at a distance, I was embraced by one and all. Neighbours who had never exchanged a word with me, nor looked directly at me (while staring and observing my
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Black Madonna of Tindari

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My favourite Madonna of all the multitude of Virgin Marys venerated by the Sicilians, is the Black Madonna of Tindari.  Her feast day takes place on 8 September, but the festivities go on all weekend: these include the annual pilgrimage to her Basilica at the top of Mount Tindari, fireworks and local processions. Part of the draw is the place of her shrine: Tindari, off the beaten tourist track, sits high on a rocky promontory with spectacular views. Founded by the Greeks in 396BC (by Dionysius the Elder, a nasty despot from Syracuse), the ruins of the city include an amphitheatre, the gates to the city, stone arches and tombs.  You can enjoy a picnic there without a Japanese tourist snapping a photo of you while you munch your sandwich (likely to happen in nearby Taormina). But the interesting thing about the Madonna of Tindari are the stories surrounding her origins. Legend has it that the cedarwood statue was hidden on a cargo ship returning from the Middle Ea
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Should I stay or should I go?

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Out and about on the daily adventures of my life, the two questions I get asked the most these days are: What brought you to Sicily? (Well, we all know the answer to that) followed swiftly by, So do you think you'll stay? Of course, the answer depends on whom I'm talking to, and always brings What's Best for My Kids into it. Sicilians unanimously agree that my kids would have better opportunities and a better future if we go back to Ireland. They think my family would rally round and be on hand at all times, unaware that in Ireland we are raised to be independent by 18 and get on with our lives elsewhere (unlike Sicily where it is common to live with parents well into your thirties). We have just come back from a month in Ireland and my children are missing their cousins, reliving the glorious summer memories, sunset by pierjump by Whipped 99 ice cream. They know school would be better and would even don a uniform if it meant jumping on the trampoline and playing hide and s
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