The Godfather in Savoca

The family trip to that film setting . .

No doubt like countless others that have touched down in Sicily, our thoughts of seeing real life 'Godfather' style Mafioso's running the streets weren't far from the mind. However, it's proved to be one of the least visible things. While discussions with some of our local friends tend to confirm that La Cosa Nostra is still alive and kicking, the extent of the old mens 'grumpy talk' in our village - Acitrezza, seems reserved to weather and fish. You can walk past them and their stern looks and simply throw out a hearty Buon giorno or Salve (polite greeting to older folk) and they are all smiles and keen to pat the kids on the head.

Acitrezza's main piazza & old men

It seems more likely now that their children would be in those respected & influential positions, still having a say and collecting a form of pizzo (protection money) if it's on the cards. Talking on it is not really the best conversation starter anyway.

Around central Catania there's the odd graffiti mentioning
 Mafia/Mafiosi but it's minimal.

Whenever we see tagging, both kids give their 'tagging is for losers!' line that had been taught well by Uncle Jazz. While I've seen the odd snippet from the Godfather Trilogy, Brig and his brothers seem to appreciate it a bit more than most so for a bit of fun we decided to take the kids to some scene locations. The story of this Italian American Corleone family has obviously interested others too, so we knew where to go. It wasn't the central Sicilian town of Corleone either, tricky Hollywood had filming done in Savoca, a town between Messina and Taormina.

This fortunately made it closer for us, so we were off up our trusty A18 Autostrada. It's so quick and easy to jump on and off. From Catania it costs 2.50 euro and you can go 130km/hr, though we find our car hums nicely around 90km's as it heads through tunnels in the mountains, unlike the mighty NZ where we go up, down, and around. Savoca is high in the hills. A quaint mountain village that still seems relatively untouched from the film scenes taken in the 70's. It's pretty, has loads of Art about, and not so tricky to navigate if you dont mind tight one-way streets.

Here at the Bar Vitelli you can sit at the spot where Micheal expresses his interest in Appolina, to her  father. Unlike the movie, we didn't have quite the same reception party waiting for us or people that might pay good money for information of our whereabouts.

Godfather

The boys trying to give their best Mafia gesture...
as Milan comes to terms with the 'closed' Restaurant
where she was suppose to get a hot chocolate.

In the one tiny town theres four churches, we didn't get to the main wedding one but the kids had a dance by another. They've been doing dance classes at their Scuola Materna.  Milan keeps getting picked by a nice kid Gabriello, making Carlos jealous and her papa a bit weary.

Outside Chiesa Madre

The town also has a entry gate, a Medieval arch,

up til 1918 it would lock the town up at sun down.

One spooky thing in Savoca was the Catacombs. This practise of mummifying their deceased in vinegar & lime was initially reserved for the honoured Friars – then it became a status symbol and of course in true Italian style they were preserved in the latest styles of the time.

There are more of these in the Capital Palermo, where we've yet to go, though chances are it won't be top of the list for the kids. In fact, I can almost hear Carlos telling me now to "forget about it".

Ten more minutes

Brigs Maiden post  ; ) 

Like a kid on their first day at a new school or working that first day on the job. The opening game of the season provided a similar mix of excitement, anticipation and a fair amount of the unknown. I was naturally curious but also relieved that 6 weeks of pre-season training was at an end and the fun part of simply playing rugby was beginning…or so I thought.

From the outset, getting the big “W” on the score sheet after 80 mins seemed a stretch as most of the team talk in the week leading up to the game was geared around “being competitive” and having “self-belief” code for…hmmm.  In any case, the game against Prato would be historic for our newly promoted club as it was a home game and also a first in the premier Italian Club Rugby Competition. Game day arrived and a positive vibe filled the air on Mt Etna as spectators began to fill the stands. 20 mins into the game, things were looking pretty ominous though I did manage to score our teams first try…little consolation for what was in store.

A short while later after making a tackle, my ankle got wrecked. The cause, 140 kg of prime front row beef landing on my ankle after it was twisted. To make matters worse, I later discovered from the video it was a prop from my own team ... dang it. No pain could outweigh the joy on my son Carlos’ face watching his papa play rugby though, right? Hmmm. Clearly I missed my que to leave the field, but then again - how valuable is hindsight?

The Panelbeaters arrive.

<><><><><>  <><><><><> 

Trying to soldier on.

The first half ended and rather than heed my coach’s suggestion to come off, I uttered those fateful words “It’ll be alright, just give me TEN MORE MINUTES”. However, before I could exit the game as intended, I took a strange tackle and ended up on the ground. This time the pain was further up the same leg. Having dislocated shoulders before, I knew something wasn’t right as the pain felt about 3 times worse. Trying to get up was a joke and my attempts must have only been in my mind as I was stretchered off in the Ambulance (for the first time in my life). Maybe it was Rugby Karma finally catching up with me? Funny thing was - of all the things that could be running through my mind, I was shaming out to myself that my 2 year old boy would see me like that - as if boys his age even care.

When the grey skies set in.

As always, my trusty wife was by my side along with Carlos as we headed down Mt Etna with sirens blearing to the nearest hospital. I’ve heard the expression ‘Heaven on Earth’ but this 45 minute ride seriously felt like my ‘Hell on Earth’ as we drove over pothole after pothole. (Those who have driven the fancy Sicilian roads from Nicolosi to Catania will understand). To make this living hell sweeter, I was told that I could get gas / painkilling medication at the hospital, which I did about 2 hours later.

5 memories of my pre-surgery Ambulance ride are:

1. Looking away from my wife and son while holding onto the window bar to brace my hip from the bumps. I was also trying to keep the sound effects down while practising my pukana (handsome facials).

2. Imagining the pain my wife must have felt giving birth to our two beautiful children and honestly thinking (to myself of course) “I’m sure this pain must be on par with that, if not worse”? Okay, I can hear all you mothers saying “yeah, whatever” but in the absence of a pain-o-meter, I’d have to say it is clearly an Apples v. Oranges thing . . . . . . unless there’s a mother out there that has experienced a posterior hip dislocation and wants to comment?

 

 

3. Being an LDS Christian, my mind even wandered off to Jesus' suffering on the Cross. Perhaps this was done unconsciously as a reminder of how much worse things could have been. Though I vividly remember saying to myself, think about something other than the baby thing in case you actually talk about it and spark less empathetic responses from wifey. Pretty on to it aye - can't be biting the hand that feeds you.

4. Always asking my wife how far from the hospital we were and being told every time, "we'll be there in TEN MORE MINUTES".

5. Laughing at the involuntary noises coming out of my mouth while trying to convince myself it was impossible for me to make such weird sounds. Then hearing my son ask his mama, “Is papa okay? Is he not tough"? Maybe the noises were mine after all.



The good old hip - Out and about.

Fortunately for me when we finally arrived at the hospital, I was able to be operated on quite quickly (thanks to our Team Doctor knowing surgeons – classic Italian style. When they say "it's all who you know" they really mean it here). Eventually when I woke up on the Ward, I had a brief moment to reflect on both my many blessings in life and then of course the rehab that lay ahead. Trust me, for every Canoli or Siciliana sweet I received from the Club players, partners, supporters, and management, my lovely Physio wife had a Medical Article or email from an NZ physio or consultant friend for me to consider. She was all about dealing with it. 

<><><><><>  <><><><><> <> <><><><><> <>

My kiddies and Team mates outside our Apartment -
the perfect Welcoming party.

After almost a week away from home, I was finally discharged from Ospedale Garibaldi with instructions from their surgeons to stay put in bed without movement for 4 weeks. A slightly dated approach it seemed, so more passive exercises and a more aggressive rehab plan was the preferred way to go once the feedback from all Kiwi and Aussie specialists pointed in this direction. Opinions among the Medical staff here put my estimated return to play at 6 -12 months, although the more optimistic goal of 16 weeks was what we were working towards at home. "You can do it Papa"!!!

<><><><><>  <><><><><>  <><><><><> <>

In good hands - totally experienced.  

<><><><><>  <><><><><> <>

This is the way we walk properly...

<><><><><> <> <><><><><>>

and this is the way we kick the ball properly.

In the weeks that followed, my 'personal physio' and her little assistants went busily about their work to "teach papa how to walk properly" and to "fix papa's weak hip". Aqua-therapy was used early on to improve range and the lovely ocean outside our apartment meant their were no excuses for bunking when opening hours at the pool didn't suit. Strengthening work followed in the gym and eventually the ball skills and rugby practise at home with my 'little assistants' were tested back on the field with the big boys. 

<><><><><> <> <><><><><> 

Tackling again - Game time 16 weeks later against Mogliano.

While I'd be lying if I said I'm 100%, it was great to be on the field again - and you guessed it...16 weeks to the day (Whaia te iti kahurangi!!!) True to form, my wife was also on hand for the comeback game played away. The plan was to only play the first 40 mins, but I figured I'd get her heart-rate up a bit and run out after half-time. Fortunately this time round, I got to play out TEN MORE MINUTES before leaving the field without injury. To the expression "In bocca al lupo" I say, "crepi il lupo!" and may the wolf remain dead for the rest of the season...lol!