Berlin Tegel Airport, 15 July 1990.
A persistent drizzle accompanies our journey in a line to reach the aircraft that would take us to Palermo-Punta.
I reach my numbered place and find two women already sitting: a young woman of about 30 years old and another decidedly old.
I say hello to both and after having put my luggage in the luggage rack I sit next to the lady.
During the take-off phase, we are all silent with our gaze fixed on ourselves, then, after the plane has stabilized, a reassuring buzz begins. The elderly lady seated next to me expressed her fear with a typically Sicilian phrase:
"Heart of Jesus help us".
Then, she immediately asked me "Are you going back to ‘casuzza beddra meia’ (my beautiful house)?". "Yes".
The girl sitting next to the lady intervenes quickly. "Grandma, leave the lady alone, maybe she doesn't want to talk." "It doesn't bother me, on the contrary, I listen willingly".
"Are you Sicilian? "
"Proudly Sicilian I am".
"You have no accent and I don't understand which is your town".
"I'm from Sciacca".
“So we are close, we are from Caltabellotta".
I looked at her and saw her eyes light up only to name her town.
The girl reached out saying "I am Luisa and this is my grandmother Pina, she no longer wants to live in Germany, she wants to spend the time she has left in the countryside".
"I want to die in Caltabellotta".
The woman immediately began to tell of her beloved town describing it as the most beautiful place in the world and she began a strange monologue accompanied by nostalgic smiles and slow sighs.
The granddaughter tried once again to stop her. "Grandma stop it, the lady certainly knows our town".
It was a useless attempt, the granny lowered the tone of her voice and continued to speak. I turned my head, looked at her and thought "who knows how many times she repeated the same loving phrases about her Caltabellotta".
In order not to hurt her peasant pride, I said: "It doesn't matter, let her tell her, I listen to her willingly".
After a few minutes, I no longer heard the woman's words becausè distant episodes relating to Caltabellotta resurfaced in my mind.
Quickly I put on my Ray-Bans, narrowed my eyes and as in an old and faded movie I saw the places of Caltabellotta's charm.
In my early childhood, during the stays with Caltabellottesi people, I gladly listened to the stories of Aunt Virginia who loved to tell the story of the ancient Triocala enriching it with heroes, great men, beautiful ladies, knights, courtiers and saints.
In the stories she told she managed to mix, with great skill, historical events, love adventures and mystical phenomena to the envy of the great William Shakespeare.
Caltabellotta stands on a rocky plateau and behind it stands a severe and solemn spur of rock known as "il pizzo o Monte Castello".
The town is an immense container of archaeological, artistic and historical riches.
The ancient Sicana necropolis, the church of Sant'Agostino, the church of Carmine, the town hall, the Pietra and the Badia, have always been the places of memory, but the places of the heart are and will always be the Hermitage of San Pellegrino and the Mother Church. I think the hermitage is one of the places most full of mystery and faith that I have ever visited.
Legend has it that Saint Peter sent the monk Pellegrino to Sicily to convert the pagans. Arriving in Triocala, the monk Pellegrino realized that the population was terrified of a dragon who lived in a cave on the mountain and which fed on humans.
Pellegrino went to the mountain and with his miraculous stick threatened the dragon who slipped into the bowels of the earth. The monk freed the town from the dragon and lived in the cave.
The grateful Caltabellottesi chose San Pellegrino as their protector.
Another of the places of the heart is the basilica, the mother church which stands on a wonderful solitary and majestic plateau in its Norman style.
That immense esplanade in the stories of my aunt became the theatre of jousting, of meetings between ladies and knights and above all the place where the heroes were welcomed.
As a young girl I often went back to the two places I loved so much and I spent whole hours fantasizing with my mind, so, like Aunt Virginia had done with me, I also invented stories that I then told to the children.
In addition to the places of the heart, the magnificent Caltabellottese territory binds me with memories of the heart, episodes that contain aromas, flavours, colours and feelings.
I want to recall one of many. As every year, on the evening of June 23, on the eve of San Giovanni, in the districts of Caltabellotta, it was customary to prepare large tables with fine dishes cooked by families and with the products of their gardens.
As a child, with my uncles, I participated in these festivals of the ancient popular tradition. Along the way to get to the place of the table, I kept my eyes up to see a thread of smoke rising above the sloping roofs of the houses; that trickle of smoke made me realize that the embers had already been lit.
Our beloved guests Bastiano and Palma, as every year, had set in their street a table full of excellent dishes: ricotta jars, fresh and seasoned cheeses, omelettes, cooked and raw wild vegetables and a large amount of sweets and I always asked myself the dilemma of what to start with and what to eat.
Ancient rites, always the same that were repeated every year. Old traditions handed down by families, which unfortunately have waned over the years.
Caltabellotta is for me a set of beautiful events and special people who will always have a place in my heart.
It took the voice of the stewardess asking us to buckle up to distract me from my Caltabellottese memories. The woman looked at me and said: “Did you hear how many beautiful things I told you about my town, come and see me"
"Of course I will, I will come."
It seems easy to talk about Caltabellotta, but it is not!
Legend, history, art, traditions, faith and mystery surround what has always been the for me fairyland in the summer and the winter nativity scene.
I can't find the right words to describe the feelings the climb to Pizzo arouses.
The sight of the smoke coming out of the crater of Etna when the sky is clear; the walk to the mother church in the places where heroes fought and ladies and knights flirted. Remaining silent under the hermitage, where holy travellers experienced the mysticism of San Pellegrino.
Caltabellotta can not only be spoken about, it must be lived.
Caltabellotta is similar to a large diamond set in the mountain, which you admire in its immense beauty in the magical sunrises and romantic sunsets when the sun illuminates it showing its thousand facets.
After getting off the aircraft I said goodbye to the two women and promised them that I would return to Caltabellotta ...
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