Life on boardWhile the ship was on its way towards the straight of Messina we settled into a life of
easy and carefree time.
I had a look at all the different salons, Library, Card Room, Cinema, hairdresser and lots of shops, bars, and late into the night dancing and entertainment. The most exhilarating was standing alone on the windward side, let the wind tousle my hair, grazing my cheeks and take my breath away, far out where the waves bruised with froth, captured the colours of the sky, deep turquoise to dark blue and stormy grey.
We had happily settled to certain regulations like mealtimes. Breakfast, Lunch and dinner a main occupation were always taken at a leisurely pace. Everybody loved to congregate towards the dining room area well ahead of the time when the dining room’s door opened. They had always two seating's. First served were the people with children. We shared our table also with a family with three children. This family was returning to New Zealand. They had spent a year in Norway, as he was a Norwegian. He went as a sailor to New Zealand and met there his wife Terry a Maori. We had only halting conversations, as we hadn’t a very good command of English.
Breakfast was always well appreciated. Our waiter looked well after us and brought us lots of freshly baked bread rolls, butter, jam and hot strong coffee, one could also have a cooked breakfast, which we never took.
For lunch and dinner was always a carafe of red wine available on the table. The food was, well just food, not to bad but also not exciting. As entrée there was always pasta with tomato sauce or soup and little bread rolls. Some people doused their soup with generous amounts of olive oil and on their tables were mountains of bread-roll crusts, only the soft doughy inside is eaten. Every day we ate eggplants, steamed, baked, or roasted to death, mostly cooked to something purple mushy unidentifiable. They must have brought tons of eggplants on board. Probably there was a glut!
Desserts were everyday cake and ice cream. The cakes had the taste of those packet cakes one can buy in Supermarkets. I guessed there were some tons of those as well on board.
Well, my mother always said:” Hunger ist der beste Koch!” roughly translated, when you are hungry you eat anything! She knew all about that. My mother was born in 1910 in Austria and went through two world wars, and she said, as a child, she was always hungry.
So, as a child, I was taught never ever to waste any food. I thought of that when I watched the sailors throwing buckets of food into the sea. At least it was not wasted it was eaten by the fish.
SicilyOur next stop was Sicily, which had a very turbulent and bloody history that bestowed a lot of hardship on its inhabitants from the beginning. Its ancient name was Trinacria. A little of its turbulent history. It is the largest island in the Mediterranean Sea. The still-active volcano Mount Etna dominates and also scares it from time to time. The recorded history of Sicily began with the settlement of the Greeks and the Phoenicians.
The Carthaginians arrived on the Island in 536 BC. In 480 BC the Carthaginian army was defeated in a battle by Gelon. The Gelonian Dynasty at Syracuse fell in 466 BC. Sicily had peace for 50 Years. In 410 BC the Carthaginians and the Greeks renewed war. By 210 BC the whole of the Island had become a Roman province. In AD 440 was an invasion by the Vandals and a cession to the Ostgoth leader Theodoric.
The Byzantine general Belisarius recovered the island for the Byzantine Empire in AD 535. In the year 827 began the Saracen occupation of Sicily.
In 1061 the Normans began their conquest of the island. The Norman rule was succeeded
By the Hohenstaufens in 1194 and in due course the house of Anjou took control in 1266. In 1282 the Sicilians had enough and revolted against the oppressive rule of Charles the first. The revolt is known as the Sicilian Vespers and began with a massacre of French soldiers. The island of Sicily became independent and chose King Pedro III of Aragon. The Spanish crown retained Sicily and Naples until the war of the Spanish succession. In 1713 Sicily was separated from Naples and handed over to the Duke of Savoy who ceded it to Austria. Receiving in exchange for the Island of Sardinia.
In 1734 the Bourbon Don Carlos, later Charles III king of Spain invaded Naples and Sicily. He was crowned in 1735 and was recognized by the Treaty of Vienna, as Charles IV, King of the Two Sicilies. After the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, 1748, Italy enjoyed almost 50 years of peace.
The turmoil of the French revolution and the Napoleonic wars brought new troubles.
In 1820 a military uprising took place in the Neapolitan dominions joined by a revolutionary group, the Carbonari, to secure a constitutional government. A power struggle continued. After 1843 the republican theories of the Italian patriot Giuseppe Mazzini took hold in Southern Italy. There was more bloodshed as Ferdinand took his revenge. In 1860 after Northern Italy was free from the rule of Austria the Italian nationalist Giuseppe Garibaldi landed in Sicily with a thousand volunteers and won control of the island. In 1861 Sicily was then joined to the new kingdom of Italy. The national Government had little understanding of the south. The Government was challenged by rebellious workers, which were again burdened by taxes and military conscriptions. Mutual suspicion characterized north-south relations. In July 1943 Sicily was invaded from North Africa by American, Canadian and British forces. Mussolini fell from power and the Italian Government capitulated.
In 1948 Sicily became a locally autonomous region of Italy, with powers of self Government.
I always think what a world with all the wars everywhere and politicians promising anything and then pulling any strings to suit the rich and mighty. When one looks back....it was never different....the Borgias....the Medicis...the Sforzas...they are and were everywhere. Also, the Machiavelli's are still well and alive in the great world theatre of ours!
Messina,
I was very much looking forward to visiting this city with its ancient history. The Greeks founded the city 735 B.C.
The villas and houses are of the simple classical build. The once vibrant colours of the
stucco is now sedate, worn out by the Sicilian sun and the salty winds of the sea.
The diffused Venetian red blotched and streaked with tears. Traces of dramatic ochres are flushed and rouged. The dominantly yellow washed facades are faded and tired, yet the stuccatur still picked out in brilliant white. The villas looked sleepy with their wooden shutters closed to keep the tall rooms in cool calmness. I imagined the sun, finger boldly striped patterns on floors, walls and furniture, removed only by the following shadows called upon in the late afternoons. The houses and colours are just fantastic, and if I would like a house it should look like those.
Unfortunately, earthquakes plague the city. It suffered badly from an earthquake in 1908 that killed 83’000 of its inhabitants.
We walked slow and easy along streets with houses exquisite in their faded elegance, above us a limpid blue and open sky ready to be painted in delicate watercolour.
Wherever I looked senses were alerted, inert feelings started to sing.
We arrived at a tiny piazza, a perfect square edged with evenly spaced Orange trees. The orange fruits looked superb partly hidden by fresh green leaves. We couldn’t withstand the temptation and plucked one orange. It was a Seville, bitter orange, good for marmalade, not for eating fresh.
We said goodbye to beautiful Messina, which was ready to stage in the next dramatic play.
When I was a small child I knew that an Island called Sicili existed. It had an aura of something wonderful exotic, as at Christmas time we got presents of small, blood oranges, each carefully packed in fine, white tissue paper. On the paper was the head of a curly-haired African boy and in big, bold letters around it said MORO, Sicilia.
Later on, I met young people from Sicily, they came to work in Switzerland. They were always homesick for their Island. On Sundays, they wore fancy, colourful clothes and gathered at the railway station their melodious language reverberating around them and when young girls passed they called “Ciao Bella”!
They were seasonal workers, called “Fremdarbeiter”. Many Swiss didn’t understand their exuberance and joie de vivre.
In spring the trains arrived from Italy with young men to work mainly as labourers on building sites. Their possessions stashed in cardboard boxes or old suitcases hold together with bits of string.
At the end of the season, in late autumn they returned home. Through the windows of the train now went lots of boxes with presents and goods bought for their families. Happy faces smiled and looked eagerly forward to going home. A faint “arrivederci” was caught by the wind as the trains departed.
easy and carefree time.
I had a look at all the different salons, Library, Card Room, Cinema, hairdresser and lots of shops, bars, and late into the night dancing and entertainment. The most exhilarating was standing alone on the windward side, let the wind tousle my hair, grazing my cheeks and take my breath away, far out where the waves bruised with froth, captured the colours of the sky, deep turquoise to dark blue and stormy grey.
We had happily settled to certain regulations like mealtimes. Breakfast, Lunch and dinner a main occupation were always taken at a leisurely pace. Everybody loved to congregate towards the dining room area well ahead of the time when the dining room’s door opened. They had always two seating's. First served were the people with children. We shared our table also with a family with three children. This family was returning to New Zealand. They had spent a year in Norway, as he was a Norwegian. He went as a sailor to New Zealand and met there his wife Terry a Maori. We had only halting conversations, as we hadn’t a very good command of English.
Breakfast was always well appreciated. Our waiter looked well after us and brought us lots of freshly baked bread rolls, butter, jam and hot strong coffee, one could also have a cooked breakfast, which we never took.
For lunch and dinner was always a carafe of red wine available on the table. The food was, well just food, not to bad but also not exciting. As entrée there was always pasta with tomato sauce or soup and little bread rolls. Some people doused their soup with generous amounts of olive oil and on their tables were mountains of bread-roll crusts, only the soft doughy inside is eaten. Every day we ate eggplants, steamed, baked, or roasted to death, mostly cooked to something purple mushy unidentifiable. They must have brought tons of eggplants on board. Probably there was a glut!
Desserts were everyday cake and ice cream. The cakes had the taste of those packet cakes one can buy in Supermarkets. I guessed there were some tons of those as well on board.
Well, my mother always said:” Hunger ist der beste Koch!” roughly translated, when you are hungry you eat anything! She knew all about that. My mother was born in 1910 in Austria and went through two world wars, and she said, as a child, she was always hungry.
So, as a child, I was taught never ever to waste any food. I thought of that when I watched the sailors throwing buckets of food into the sea. At least it was not wasted it was eaten by the fish.
SicilyOur next stop was Sicily, which had a very turbulent and bloody history that bestowed a lot of hardship on its inhabitants from the beginning. Its ancient name was Trinacria. A little of its turbulent history. It is the largest island in the Mediterranean Sea. The still-active volcano Mount Etna dominates and also scares it from time to time. The recorded history of Sicily began with the settlement of the Greeks and the Phoenicians.
The Carthaginians arrived on the Island in 536 BC. In 480 BC the Carthaginian army was defeated in a battle by Gelon. The Gelonian Dynasty at Syracuse fell in 466 BC. Sicily had peace for 50 Years. In 410 BC the Carthaginians and the Greeks renewed war. By 210 BC the whole of the Island had become a Roman province. In AD 440 was an invasion by the Vandals and a cession to the Ostgoth leader Theodoric.
The Byzantine general Belisarius recovered the island for the Byzantine Empire in AD 535. In the year 827 began the Saracen occupation of Sicily.
In 1061 the Normans began their conquest of the island. The Norman rule was succeeded
By the Hohenstaufens in 1194 and in due course the house of Anjou took control in 1266. In 1282 the Sicilians had enough and revolted against the oppressive rule of Charles the first. The revolt is known as the Sicilian Vespers and began with a massacre of French soldiers. The island of Sicily became independent and chose King Pedro III of Aragon. The Spanish crown retained Sicily and Naples until the war of the Spanish succession. In 1713 Sicily was separated from Naples and handed over to the Duke of Savoy who ceded it to Austria. Receiving in exchange for the Island of Sardinia.
In 1734 the Bourbon Don Carlos, later Charles III king of Spain invaded Naples and Sicily. He was crowned in 1735 and was recognized by the Treaty of Vienna, as Charles IV, King of the Two Sicilies. After the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, 1748, Italy enjoyed almost 50 years of peace.
The turmoil of the French revolution and the Napoleonic wars brought new troubles.
In 1820 a military uprising took place in the Neapolitan dominions joined by a revolutionary group, the Carbonari, to secure a constitutional government. A power struggle continued. After 1843 the republican theories of the Italian patriot Giuseppe Mazzini took hold in Southern Italy. There was more bloodshed as Ferdinand took his revenge. In 1860 after Northern Italy was free from the rule of Austria the Italian nationalist Giuseppe Garibaldi landed in Sicily with a thousand volunteers and won control of the island. In 1861 Sicily was then joined to the new kingdom of Italy. The national Government had little understanding of the south. The Government was challenged by rebellious workers, which were again burdened by taxes and military conscriptions. Mutual suspicion characterized north-south relations. In July 1943 Sicily was invaded from North Africa by American, Canadian and British forces. Mussolini fell from power and the Italian Government capitulated.
In 1948 Sicily became a locally autonomous region of Italy, with powers of self Government.
I always think what a world with all the wars everywhere and politicians promising anything and then pulling any strings to suit the rich and mighty. When one looks back....it was never different....the Borgias....the Medicis...the Sforzas...they are and were everywhere. Also, the Machiavelli's are still well and alive in the great world theatre of ours!
Messina,
I was very much looking forward to visiting this city with its ancient history. The Greeks founded the city 735 B.C.
The villas and houses are of the simple classical build. The once vibrant colours of the
stucco is now sedate, worn out by the Sicilian sun and the salty winds of the sea.
The diffused Venetian red blotched and streaked with tears. Traces of dramatic ochres are flushed and rouged. The dominantly yellow washed facades are faded and tired, yet the stuccatur still picked out in brilliant white. The villas looked sleepy with their wooden shutters closed to keep the tall rooms in cool calmness. I imagined the sun, finger boldly striped patterns on floors, walls and furniture, removed only by the following shadows called upon in the late afternoons. The houses and colours are just fantastic, and if I would like a house it should look like those.
Unfortunately, earthquakes plague the city. It suffered badly from an earthquake in 1908 that killed 83’000 of its inhabitants.
We walked slow and easy along streets with houses exquisite in their faded elegance, above us a limpid blue and open sky ready to be painted in delicate watercolour.
Wherever I looked senses were alerted, inert feelings started to sing.
We arrived at a tiny piazza, a perfect square edged with evenly spaced Orange trees. The orange fruits looked superb partly hidden by fresh green leaves. We couldn’t withstand the temptation and plucked one orange. It was a Seville, bitter orange, good for marmalade, not for eating fresh.
We said goodbye to beautiful Messina, which was ready to stage in the next dramatic play.
When I was a small child I knew that an Island called Sicili existed. It had an aura of something wonderful exotic, as at Christmas time we got presents of small, blood oranges, each carefully packed in fine, white tissue paper. On the paper was the head of a curly-haired African boy and in big, bold letters around it said MORO, Sicilia.
Later on, I met young people from Sicily, they came to work in Switzerland. They were always homesick for their Island. On Sundays, they wore fancy, colourful clothes and gathered at the railway station their melodious language reverberating around them and when young girls passed they called “Ciao Bella”!
They were seasonal workers, called “Fremdarbeiter”. Many Swiss didn’t understand their exuberance and joie de vivre.
In spring the trains arrived from Italy with young men to work mainly as labourers on building sites. Their possessions stashed in cardboard boxes or old suitcases hold together with bits of string.
At the end of the season, in late autumn they returned home. Through the windows of the train now went lots of boxes with presents and goods bought for their families. Happy faces smiled and looked eagerly forward to going home. A faint “arrivederci” was caught by the wind as the trains departed.
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