My last day in Palermo was emotional. I felt tired of being here. I was tired of the noise, traffic, pollution, and people. I also witnessed two very intense sights here. I decided to leave town once again to visit monte pelligrino, outside of town. I took the terrifying bus ride up a hillside to the church of Santa Rosalia (makes me think of the Los Lobos song “Rosalie”). The bus driver was flying up the narrow streets, honking his horn at every turn, and cranking the bus around hairpin turns. Ack.
St. Rosalia is the patron saint of Palermo, credited for getting rid of the plague in Palermo. She is super important to the people here and it is believed that her remains were found at this location. I walked up the stairs to the church. It’s situated at the top and is built into a hillside. You walk through the church door and the rock is visible everywhere. It definitely felt spiritual in this church, one of the few that feel this way to me. There are gutters along the rock to catch water that is dripping down. The locals believe it has special healing property. I looked to see if they sold it but didn’t see anything for sale. I didn’t want to stick my hand in the trough in case that wasn’t appropriate. I considered it but didn’t do it. People could leave notes in a plastic case for the saint. Some took to writing their notes on the rock wall. At the entrance to the chapel there were also cards and notes of thanks to the saint for listening to their prayers. It was really interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this with a catholic church. I went to Our Lady of La Salette in France when I was little but I don’t remember what it was like. It is believed that Mary appeared here and cried a pool of tears that is still there and never freezes even though this is in the mountains and covered in snow. I don’t remember it feeling spiritual. In fact, after posing by the pool of tears and collecting my sample, my brothers Joe & Allan, and my sister Megan and I all went “snow gliding” down the hillside. This was something we had watched days before on bad local TV. I laughed so hard doing this with them that I peed my pants. So either it wasn’t too spiritual there or I was too young to notice. Apparently Joe & Allan didn’t feel spiritual either, and they are older than me.
After my visit here, I returned to the center of town, only to decide that I had to leave again. It’s too much!!
I hadn’t seen the catacombs and I heard and read interesting things about them. They contain the bodies of 8000 people. It begun as a place to bury monks and then expanded to regular people – men, women, children. As you walk in, the walls are lined with skeletons that are sort of tied to the walls. The skeletons are all clothed in their burial attire. There are also some that are in open coffins lining the walls. I don’t think I breathed at all while I walked through there and tried to not walk on top of the tombs that were lining the floor. There were two French women walking along with me and one of them said “mon du”. I looked at her and said “yes mon du”.
The place felt so intense. Some of the bodies were just skeletons. Some had a little hair and skin still! There is one little girl who died at two years old. Her body is perfectly preserved. She looks like a little doll. Her name is Rosalia. Coincidence? There is a picture of her here if you want to see http://www.lifeinitaly.com/tourism/sicily/catacomb.asp
I finished the night off by treating myself to a Michelen Star Restaurant. Well, I tried but I didn’t have a reservation. It’s located around the corner from where I’m staying so who would have thought I couldn’t get a table for one?
So I wandered around the corner where on previous nights I had seen a couple of places that looked decent...meaning something more than a bar to get a quickie panino. I ended up at the first place I came to – Na Bucco. I quickly looked at the menu outside and decided to not think too much and just go for it. They asked if I wanted the English menu or Italian and I said “both”. This goes back to my issue with the English translation of Italian food. It’s never anywhere close to accurate. I’m looking through both menus but had pretty much already decided three days ago that I was having a steak. It had been forever. The owner came and asked me what I would like and I told her I was torn between the strudel of cheese, honey, and apples or the tuna tartare. This would have been a simple decision weeks ago – the tuna. Being that I was heading back to the west coast in 5 days (who’s counting) I figured I could have this again in no time. She gave me an explanation (in Italian) about each. Blah, blah, blah – local cheese, blah, blah, blah, fresh tuna. Her preference – the tuna. Okay. Done. I got the tuna tartare. It was sooooooooooooooooo good. I haven’t had this in ages and this is a local thing. I have either (a) not been going to the right restaurants or (b)???? Granted I haven’t eaten a lot of dinners out, opting instead for a big lunch or choosing the cheaper choice. Stupid mistake. Never again.
My next course was the filet of the house cooked in Avola wine, which is a local wine similar to a big Tuscan. My favorites. The filet came out and looked amazing. I dug in and couldn’t believe the meat was so tender. I had them cook it medium. It really was the most tender, moist, light pink,…hey wait a minute. What did I order? Think back. What did it say? I think it was “Filletto di manzo in Avola vino”. Right. Beef filet in Avola wine. Oh no. Is that what it said? Am I eating…I look up and see a picture of a horse. Nuts. Horse meat is fairly common in Italy. I’ve seen it available in Tuscany and it is a specialty of Catania, Sicily. Oh crap. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Am I eating horse? I’m not the biggest horse-loving friend but I do have a feeling about them that extends to not eating them.
I am sorry to all my horse-loving friends – Bridget, Pam, Allida, my niece Hanna, anyone else I’m missing?
I don’t know if it was horse meat but I have never had beef that was like it. I also realized I had my last piece of beef around my 2nd week in Rome. Maybe I forgot what it was supposed to look and taste like.
Either way, I opted to finish off my meal with a warm death by chocolate (which is what they call it in Italian too) and grappa. The grappa was kind of an afterthought. I asked for some other things first and landed on it. I do like grappa but less for the taste and more for the ability it has to burn everything you just ate into a pile of ashes and allow you to go to sleep without a full stomach.
The grappa that was served to me was so good. First, it smelled good! What grappa smells good? I couldn’t get over how it smelled which made my server laugh and talk about how the grappa in America is “forte”. Understatement. Second, it tasted good. I still couldn’t drink it all but it was a lovely finish to the best meal I’ve had in along time and a great way to finish off my roller coaster day and visit to Palermo.
Now, I am back in Rome and I am giddy to be back. Yippee!!
