In the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies 9 –Strings Attached

 

Museo dei Pupi  ©Nigel Summerley

Ortigia, the old heart of Syracuse, is joined to the mainland city by bridges and maintains its own ecccentric identity. 

Among its many attractions are the Museo dei Pupi (Puppet Museum), a tribute to the fact that puppetry has ancient historical roots here.

The museum and its motionless inhabitants seem to be tinged with a certain melancholy, not least in the case of a boy with an unusually long and pointy nose – in fact, a puppet of a puppet.

Yes, this is Pinocchio, the wooden toy who, in Carlo Collodi's classic story, wanted to be a real boy.

The puppeteering Vaccaro brothers, Saro and Alfredo, also had a dream, back in the middle of the 20th century, to stage their own version of Pinocchio. Saro made the puppets and Alfredo was the script man.

With the growing popularity of the Disney movie of the same name, they thought their luck was in – but of course, it wasn't. They devised their performance around using the music soundtrack from the movie to enhance their show, but they were soon made aware that they would have to pay royalties. They couldn't afford either the royalties or possible legal action, and in the end that brought the curtain down on their Pinocchio.

As an explanatory note in the museum next to the Vaccaros' original aged puppets preserved here explains: "Pinocchio together with his friends were unused. Little by little, their colours and smiles vanished, covered under a veil of dust."

Pinocchio and friends  ©Nigel Summerley

In the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies 8 – Falcone and Borsellino

As true fans of Inspector Montalbano [see previous post] will know, there is a strong link between his career and the assassination of magistrate Giovanni Falcone. If you don't know it, you need to check out the equally excellent prequel series, Young Montalbano.

Falcone – like Montalbano to a degree – rubbed up against the Mafia but in a much more intense and dangerous way in the all too real world. His campaign to bring the godfathers and mobsters to justice led inevitably to his being blown away in an horrendous bombing near Palermo.

A similar fate soon overtook his fellow magistrate and friend Paolo Borsellino in the city itself.

The gruesome deaths of Falcone and Borsellino seemed to help Sicily turn a corner and to start standing up to the Mafia. 

And today the two men are commemorated as martyrs to their cause.

It seemed important to visit the tomb of Falcone in Palermo's San Domenico church – even though the awful truth is that there was nothing left of him to bury.

Falcone's tomb  ©Nigel Summerley

A lovely image of him and Borsellino decorates a tall building near the Palermo waterfront: two smiling men united in fighting a war that they well knew would most likely lead to their deaths.

Heroes are so often in short supply... but that is what these men were.

Immortalised: Falcone and Borsellino  ©Nigel Summerley

In the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies 7 – Montalbano's Manor

©Nigel Summerley

The finest TV cop series? For me it has to be Inspector Montalbano. And if you have ever watched and enjoyed it, you will know there are myriad reasons why it's the very best.

The star of the show, however, could reasonably be said to be... Sicily.

Apart from the storylines, the characters, the acting, the humour, the darkness and the frailty of human beings, there is this amazing land, filmed with love and high drama.

It's no wonder that fans are drawn to visit the series' locations... and I readily confess that I was too.

I first saw the town hall in the bustling town of Scicli (aka Vigata police HQ) in the early evening, when it was surrounded by so many people that I couldn't even begin to get close or take a picture.

So next morning I was up extremely early to have the place to myself... except for one other man loitering in the shadows. As I began taking pictures of "Montalbano's police station", the Italian man emerged (shaven-headed, shades, smart clothes) and asked if I would take a picture of him on his phone.

'Of course," I said. "Where?"

He might have looked like Montalbano but he seemed shy.

"Here is fine," he said, remaining seated under a tree.

I took the picture and then he cut to the chase.

"One more here," he said, moving swiftly to the front of the imposing building.

"Ah! Montalbano!" I said.

He nodded.

I took the perfect shot of him looking like the legendary inspector outside the legendary building.

And then, when he had gone, I confess I took a selfie in exactly the same place – and for pretty much the same reason.

I didn't look as cool as the Italian guy I had photographed. But it felt pretty good to be here on this almost hallowed ground.

©Nigel Summerley