The Farm

For reasons that weren't explained, we had a different bus and driver today. We get the regular bus and driver back tomorrow. But a bus picked us up and took us about 30 minutes out in the country from Ragusa, out in the sticks. When we got to a place where the road turned to a gravel track, the bus let us off and a couple of cars picked us up, making two trips up the mountain in order to transport the entire group.

Our destination was a farm of about 120 acres operated by a husband, wife, and son in his late 20s. The home, we were told, was constructed after the great earthquake of 1693, so is more than 300 years old. The son is the fourth generation of this family to live there. Obviously, there have been some modern additions -- indoor plumbing, electricity, and modern kitchen, etc.

We were brought into the kitchen/dining area for a snack and brief introductions, then we went outside for a walk around the farm buildings. The main produce here is beef cattle, a French breed known as "limousin" (pronounced just like a fancy car with a chauffeur).

The barn held four or five newborn calves and their mothers, plus a few other cattle that were under observation for various conditions, and in a separate pen, one very large bull. The rest of the herd was out to pasture.

Explanations take longer when translation is necessary. We could tell by some of the questions asked by group members that we are traveling with a lot of city folk who had never been on a farm before. We spent quite a bit of time in the barn discussing the basics.

We walked next to the "green house," which is several acres under plastic where berries are growing. All the plants are irrigated by a computerized system that controls the exact amount of water necessary. 

We were given the opportunity to harvest blackberries for our noon meal. They were the biggest blackberries we've ever seen!

While we were there, the small village on the next hill set off a volley of fireworks for the regional festival of some saint or other. For some reason, fireworks are a daytime activity here. Also backwards from our perspective, parades occur at night. We had been told that there would be a festival parade in Ragusa yesterday, but we assumed we had missed it while we were in Modica. Turns out, the parade began at about 10:30 p.m. after most of us were back in our hotel.

Back at the house, we were put to work making pasta. Our hostess made the dough on the table in front of us. A few took turns rolling it out and cutting it into squares. 

Then we got to try rolling the squares into individual shells. The technique did not come naturally, and practice was required.

While the pasta was being made, a few other group members were under the direction of our host's cousin, who spoke some English, making shells for cannoli. The process of rolling, cutting, rolling, and frying the shells was also labor intensive.

And, as all of this was going on, our host fired up a large Weber gas grill, just as might be found on an American patio. Just like in America, the man was responsible for grilling the meat.

When it was finally time to eat, it was another typical Sicilian meal, with a half dozen or so "starters," followed by pasta, followed by the meat, and ending with two desserts. Of course, pitchers of homemade red and white wine were on the table, and were refilled regularly. It was another very good meal with lots of laughter and conversation, some translated and some not.

About 4 p.m. we were ferried downhill by car, just as we had come up. The bus transported us back to Ragusa. The schedule said, "dinner on your own," but our stomachs were still very full from a late and long lunch. 

We did get out to walk around town a bit, and found many locals doing the same. Many were dressed up in their Sunday best. Italians tend not to think about their evening meal until at least 8 or 9 p.m., so at 8 the main square was full of people strolling, having a drink, or just beginning the "starters" of their meal. It was a beautiful evening to be out and about.