I saw a recumbent elephant in the mountain across from where we are staying. Giuseppe, who has lived here for over 70 years has always seen a recumbent girl, with her back turned to us, and hair flowing out (as opposed to trunk of elephant.) Far more romantic.
The pageant passing through Quatro Canti, Palermo Credit drintle.com |
Rosalia was of Royal Norman decent. She did the counter-cultural thing by eschew privilege and opting instead to live as a hermit in a cave in the Pellegrino hills above Palermo. And that would have been that. For hundreds of year she was remembered and revered. Then in the midst of a seventeenth century plague, a woman found human remains in a cave. She brought them back down into the city, and miraculously the plague departed. The bones are now in the Cathedral, and Santa Agata had to become second saint of Palermo, because Santa Rosalia had saved the city.
On Monday we joined the citizens of Palermo outside the cathedral. We were told to get there by 6:30. Nothing happened until 9:30, except the action going on about us all the time. The crowds built up steadily. We were reassured that we hadn't missed the nod about the correct start time. Perhaps it's like the airport, with the opportunity for an enhanced duty free experience. The information on the internet was very vague. The many posters splashed across the city published by the church didn't even mention Monday. They were more interested in Tuesday. Monday is the 'pre-festival'. This is largely secular, and supposed to be riotous. Halloween is better known that All Saints day in a similar way. The church is worried that the populous will become tired and drunken, unable to get up for church, especially as it is a local bank holiday.
For three hours we watched the hawkers trying to get every women, and then the men, to buy rose headbands. We saw the uniformed police, carabinieri, firemen, football teams (Rosalia FC), Croce Rosa and marshals doing their thing. There were men dressed in ancient military uniforms. They mingled and marched and looked splendid and important.
The VIPs assembled in the balconies overlooking the street. From time to time the sound system blared out a girl's voice, calling to us to stay strong, and survive. The saint was still at work.
At last the distant floats we could seen by the Porta Nuova started to inch forward, and all the uniformed officers jumped into action. They had to clear the way of people in a hurry to avoid another calamity for the city. But where can a street full of people be move to? We were tactically positioned behind a barrier, next to a lamp post which offered some protection, and near to a marshal (surely the last people who are going to be crushed.) With the skill only Italians possess, the street was cleared onto the pavement, and we found ourselves pressed all about with hot bodies. everyone was very kind and patient. Three very old ladies, one of whom could speak English having lived in London some time ago. were there to help and protect us. They kept us informed about the goings on, and one showed us the local TV station on her phone, who were covering the event. The presence of the saint could be felt.
Our new friends explained that Tuesday was the real event. Tomorrow was when the sacred relict would be taken out and processed. Indeed the Cathedral had it's own set of decorations and lights that were not in use on Secular Monday. Tomorrow there would be choirs, bands, pointy hats and the effigy of Rosalia and her reliquary, to be held aloft and carried with mesmeric swaying down a different route. We were leaving Palermo so unfortunately we were to miss the serious bit.
But tonight things were just hotting up. As the floats passed us, with booming music, a light show was projected onto the cathedral. By now we had been squeezed away from our prime position by the general mass of people and were around the corner from the cathedral Fortunately all could seen vicariously via the numerous images of the event on people's phones held aloft. Periscopes everywhere, enabling us to see round corners.
And there was young and beautiful Rosalia, comforting her people. The people cheered. Then the Bishop came out and sneaked in a very long sermon (well it was in Sicilian.) We could guess the contents. Praises be to Rosalia.
We nipped to our flat across the filled-in river, and then joined the mass of young people heading for the sea. We arrived to the sound of 'Land of Hope and Glory' as the firework display began. Following a stream of people we ascended the stairs onto a Doric colonnaded gazebo, and saw stars between the pillars. The tremendous show was slightly obscured, but the atmosphere was tremendous, with people about us dancing the the thunderous music and explosions. I was reminded how we have always opted for pillars at Stratford, and always appreciated a great show.
The Grotto of Santa Rosalia Credit: Wikipedia, Stendhal55 |