The Roman Gods of Timbuktu

On the northwest corner of Sicily, in the province of Trapani, lies a small but touristy town called San Vito Lo Capo, which translates to Cape Saint Victor in English. San Vito was the patron saint of fishermen, and one out of every four men born in the village is named Vito. What was once a quiet and unassuming fishing village has blossomed into one of the most popular tourist destinations in all of Europe. This is neither a coincidence, nor an accident. For years the Italian Ministry of Tourism and the European Union have tried to study San Vito Lo Capo to try and replicate their results elsewhere, and to date, they have been wildly unsuccessful. Millions of euros and thousands of hours have been spent, by governments and universities alike, trying to understand what it is about this obscure corner of Sicily that draws the interest of so many tourists from every imaginable class and corner of the planet, and no one can seem to come to a consensus.

But I know the truth. I know the real story, and it goes beyond your wildest dreams. I was sent here by the New York Times to cover the Couscous World Championships, which are held annually every September in San Vito, and on my first night in town, after checking into a bed and breakfast off of the main street called Bedda Luna, I decided to check out the ristopub on one of the business cards that was left at the reception desk by the owner. The name of the place was Bik Bak, and I was immediately greeted by a warm smile from the bartender Alessandro. “Prego! You can sit anywhere you like!” he shouted from behind the bar. He was shouting over the only other patron in the bar, who was sitting directly in front of him, hunched over a gin and tonic. Normally I would never sit at a bar in a foreign country nex to a total stranger. But I figured the place was empty, and I wasn't trying to create extra work for the barkeeper, so I took a seat a few barstools over from my fellow drinker, ordered a Cuba libre for myself, and quickly noticed something odd about him. He had a shaved head and a full beard of black that was speckled with grey, but it wasn't until he picked his head up to say “salve” that I saw his wings. Small wings, positioned above his ears on either side.

“First time here?” asked the winged drinker. “Yea, I'm actually here for work.” I stammered, trying my damnedest not to stare at the wings pointing toward the ceiling of the pub. I noticed that the barman was totally unfazed by the presence of wings on a man's head, and was paying more attention to my reaction while he was making my drink. “You're a writer huh? Yea you look the type.” He let go of his gin and tonic and reached out to shake my hand. “I'm Mercury.” The wings on his head fluttered as I shook his hand. “Michael Iodice, my friends call me Mikey,” I said back, feeling immediately at ease by the friendly aura of…wait, did he say…”Did you say your name was Mercury? Like the planet?” He laughed as Alessandro delivered my beverage with a final splash of fresh lime juice. “Yea, they named it after me. I have a day of the week, a metallic element, a boat engine company and a car manufacturer named after me too. Personally, the metallic element is my favorite, that stuff is nasty, humans really flip out over it”

My list of questions was getting long, quickly. “Wait wait, you're saying you’re THE Mercury.” He leaned back on his stool, opened his tattooed arms casually, smirked and asked, “the wings don't give it away? You don't recognize a god when you see one?” Well, now that he mentioned it, he did look a little…different. He was definitely human looking, but his features were flawless. His tan was perfect and his skin seemed to lack any kind of blemish. He had a smile that was as bright and wide as the white sand beaches San Vito is famous for. His hands were immaculately manicured. Ok, a little metrosexual? Maybe. But a god? And a Roman god? I took a Greek and Roman Studies class at NYU. I knew my mythology pretty well, even if it had only ever been useful during quiz nights or while watching Jeopardy. This guy was claiming to be the Messenger of the Gods, a direct report to Jupiter and Juno. And he was doing it with a straight face. I had to get a question out or my head was going to explode. “Ok, let's concede that you're really Mercury. What the hell are you doing here in Sicily?” “You here to cover the couscous festival?” Ugh, that question sounded so unserious when it was asked out loud, especially by a local. I didn't even know the first thing about couscous, other than a plate of it costs about $30 bucks back in Manhattan. “I am, but I don't really know where to start with it yet.” I returned to my original inquiry. “Do you live here in San Vito?” Mercury took a swig of his gin and tonic and smirked again. “We all do.”

My blood rushed at the sound of “we.” Ok, so there are more. How many more? Which ones? And above all else, why!? I have always been a firm believer in trusting what my eyes are telling me is in front of me, but every ounce of education and knowledge was now telling me I shouldn't believe them. I began to wonder if Alessandro had slipped something extra into my Cuba libre when Mercury polished off his gin and tonic and ordered another. “It's a long story. I'm actually going over to Jupiter's place after this if you want to roll with?” Ok, now he's just showing off. I chugged what was left of my drink and nodded toward Alessandro for another, who understood without me needing to say a word. “Jupiter has a place here? In San Vito?” I asked, almost sarcastically. Mercury nodded as though this were common knowledge. “He and Juno kinda built this place, they own the hostel up at the top of the hill and they're throwing a party tonight. Jupiter likes to DJ.” This was already turning into a better story than the damn couscous festival. I liked Mercury, I had already forgotten about the wings on his head that quivered about like they had minds of their own. He was personable, despite seemingly not being a person at all. The more he talked, the more genuine he came off. Geez, I thought, if the whole town is as friendly as these two, I'm going to have a hard time leaving. If only I knew how right I was at the time.

“Venus and Diana will be there, they're a couple of troublemakers so you’d better watch yourself. Oh and I think Minerva and Neptune will be around too, they're a ton of fun. No pressure though, I know the ride into town is tough and if you'd rather rest…” “I'm in!” I shouted and almost fell off of my barstool. I was now equally drunk on excitement and curiosity as I was on the Havana Club rum Alessandro was serving. I had barely reached for my wallet when Mercury had already furnished a credit card with a logo I had never seen before. “Please,” he said, “let me get these, you're our guest.” I hadn’t been in San Vito for more than a few hours and I was already growing attached to the place. When you live in New York as long as I have, you forget how pleasant people, or in this case, gods, can be. “Ciao Ale’! Buona giornata!” Mercury shouted on our way out the door. He unchained a bright green e-bike from the lamp post, to which I quipped, “Pretty low tech for a god isn't it?” Mercury quipped back, “A god, but in human form.” He must've noticed the confusion written on my face. He laughed and motioned me toward the bike. “Hop on, I'll explain on the ride over.”

Mercury finished unchaining his e-bike, I sat down on the flat back piece with my legs hanging off to the side, helped him push off to start with my arms around his waist, and we made our way up the hill toward Jupiter and Juno's hostel. There are two main roads in San Vito. One runs through the middle of town, and one through the west side only a few streets over. We zipped onto the western road and up the hill, and I tried to listen as carefully as I could over the wind as Mercury did his best to prepare me for the godly shindig I was about to stumble into.

“I know you're an educated guy, so you should be able to follow this. You know the story of the Roman Empire, right? The rise, the Republic, the Empire, the collapse. Well we oversaw all of it. The Romans prayed to us for just about everything, and we did the best we could to provide for them. But you humans man, you are a stubborn bunch. Gods have always given you everything you've needed, but you have always found creative ways of making a mess of things. That's how we ended up here. After Emperor Nero had Jesus Christ crucified, humans started worshipping Jesus’ dad, and Christianity took over as the main religion around here. The Romans were essentially wiped out, and we had no one to look over. So the Christian God gave us all a choice. We could spend eternity in a new place he called ‘Hell’, or we could assume a cursed human form and spend eternity here on Earth. The Christian God negotiated this directly with Jupiter, but we all agreed that whatever decision was made, we would all make the same one, together. This way none of us were left alone anywhere, you know? Christian God didn't really ever explain what Hell was to Jupiter, and we had all come to this part of Sicily for one reason or another over the course of Rome's reign. We all loved it here, so we decided to accept the offer of the cursed human form. And you know what? It has really worked out for us! Even when the Ottomans were here, they brought the arancini! Jupiter and Juno opened up this hostel we're going to. Aurora takes care of the place in the mornings. Venus, Diana, and Minerva are all roommates and have a villa together down on the water. Neptune lives on his boat down at the marina, he sort of acts as security around here. Apollo and Vulcan are usually bartending on the patio, the tourist girls love them. Pretty much everybody you've heard of will be there, even some of the muses got to come with us.”

Mercury flashed a devilish smile back at me when he mentioned the muses. “I hope you like tequila! That's all the muses usually let us drink.” Apollo? Muses? Nero? Tequila? Did he say Venus? I had so many more questions. I tried to make some sense of it, but it didn't matter. Here I was, on assignment in Sicily, riding on the back of a Roman god's e-bike, learning about the ancient and far-reaching consequences of the crucifixion of Christ. Even the writers at Netflix couldn’t make this story up. My excitement grew as we glided smoothly up the hill and I watched Mercury's wings flap in the breeze. “Oh yeah, one more thing, try to be cool. A lot of humans can get kind of overwhelmed by all the mythology, and it can be a real buzzkill.” It only occurred to me then that this is something that must have happened before. San Vito is quite popular after all, how is it that this hasn’t gotten out? That's when I got nervous. Was I in some kind of danger if I didn't keep what I was about to see to myself? Whatever, I thought, that's Tomorrow-Mikey's problem. Couscous was now the furthest thing from my mind, and I could hear “Freed from Desire” coming from the patio as we pulled up to the big blue gates. I gawked at the beautiful two-story building while Mercury chained up his bike. Everywhere you looked, there seemed to be a mural or some kind of artwork. I could smell fish on the grill, and there was laundry hanging from the two balconies immediately overhead, along with an assortment of bicycles locked up just inside the gate. Overshadowing the music was the sound of laughter so angelic it sent a shivver down my spine. Mercury noticed and chuckled to himself as he unlocked the gate with a four digit code and held it open for me. With a smile, he said, “Welcome to Timbuktu.”