My last weekend in Rome

This was my last weekend in Rome. I had three nights in the city to fit in any last adventures and see any last sights. I was really excited to return to Rome which was funny because I was so excited to leave Rome back on April 1st when I headed south. I was feeling overwhelmed by the city back then. Coming back felt comfortable and familiar.
I don't know that I did a lot with my remaining time but it was a nice weekend just the same. I saw friends from Seattle that have lived here for the last year and who are also returning to Seattle at the end of May. I saw a couple of my former classmates too. I got my fill of all my favorite foods and even discovered some new favorites. I did a lot of shopping. I finally got on the archaeological bus and saw some sights that are different than those on most tour bus agendas. In the end, what I did most, was just walk and walk and walk around all the various areas and see things for the last time.
I felt sad to be leaving. I didn't expect to feel that way. I've gone through such a roller coaster of emotions over the last three months. Even in my final days in Rome, things weren't all rosy. The city doubled it's population while I was away. So many tourists have come into the city for their vacations. It was unbelievable. I think as a result, the locals were cranky...more so than usual. They were short with you and irritated when you couldn't respond as fast as they were moving.
Even with all that I am sad to say good bye to my time here. However, I'm also ready to go home. It's a nice place to be - equally happy to be here and equally happy to go home. I don't think I've felt that sense of balance when on a trip. I'm not sure what got me here but I like it and I'm working on more of it in other areas of my life.
So tomorrow I will get on my very early flight and return to the states. I look forward to seeing all of you and thank you for joining me on my journey. It was so much fun and I loved writing about it. I will miss writing a blog. I might just have to come up with something interesting to write about while I'm home.

I'll leave you with one final item. When I was on my tour bus, I captured a video of a bunch of Ferrari's going down the street. It took me awhile to realize that it wasn't just one Ferrari but a parade of them! The street was shut down and they had a police escort. An Ambulance can barely get cars to move out of it's way but for Ferrari's they close the street! I'm sure it was something "official" or special. Either way, enjoy some images from the last 3rd of the parade.

My Last Day in Palermo

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!!

Never get involved with a Sicilian when death is on the line.

I’ve wanted to come up with a good reason to use this line and I never really found one. The closest I got to “death” was being locked in the bathroom. It was a far stretch to death. I think I would have just lost a few pounds, which would have been good. However, in that moment, I had loads of help from Sicilians. Getting involved with them actually helped me.
I’m glad I spent the whole month in Sicily. It gave me a chance to really explore the entire area and see almost everything. I could have probably seen everything if I had my own transportation and a desire to race around. I wasn’t really sure my intention when I came down here. Sightsee, relax, a little of both? I wasn’t really streamlined for quickly getting around and seeing all the sights. I think that squashed my desire to see more places. Spending a week in Cefalu came out of being done with the whole sightseeing thing and just wanting to stay put and relax for a while. I really enjoyed that week. I saw some sights but I also did nothing on a few days. I loved Taromina and Agrigento. The two places are very different. Taromina is almost like Disneyland where everything is perfect, happy, and sunshine. I love Disneyland. Agrigento was a bit dirty and I was semi-stalked, but I loved the history and the cultural diversity there.
I’m not sure if being in Palermo last is a good thing or a bad thing. I don’t love this city. I’m definitely here too long but with day trips out of the city it helps to not feel overwhelmed by the chaos. I don’t know why I booked so many nights here. I had it in my head that I couldn’t return to Rome until May 1st. I’m not really sure why I was stuck on that idea. It didn’t even dawn on me that I could do something different until I was already here and committed to my lodging and plane ticket. It’s changeable, but for a fee, so how important is it to return to Rome a day earlier. I kept thinking be flexible, be flexible but I never saw how to be flexible. I thought I could change my trip plans but I didn’t know how to do it. How silly is that? What is that about?
During my time in Palermo, I have seen some sights in the city and also made two trips out of town.
Saturday was mostly aimless meandering followed by passiagiata with the owners of the B&B. The owner is from Catania (I left out how I feel about his town) and moved here two years ago. I don’t know why he is here so I might ask. This neighborhood, where the B&B is located, was formally the seedy underbelly of Palermo…probably one of many. However, I think it’s of some importance because I saw a whole beautiful coffee table book on the area at the bookstore. The book was filled with photos of people shooting up drugs, living in squalor, and other depressing images. The area hasn’t become this gorgeous shiny new neighborhood. It’s still pretty run down and dirty. Dirty is a relative term here though. It’s beat up. That’s probably more accurate. The education level of people here only goes to about the 7th grade according to my host. Why he chose to buy here and start a B&B, I don’t know. He’s very proud and is trying to change some little things in his building. Hopefully he does some good. I can’t really tell what he is all about or his intentions.
Anyway, our walk through the neighborhood was interesting and he pointed out lots of old buildings and gave me a few facts here and there. There is this one building that was bombed during WWII and what’s left of it still stands. It’s all boarded up and no one has ever done anything with it. It’s not a special memorial nor are there any signs telling you anything about this destroyed building. From what he told me I don’t have the impression that it was planned this way.



Sunday I went to a local outdoor market called Ballaro. There are a few of these here. Vendors sell packaged food, fresh fish, cheese, olives, bread, and a few household goods. The mix of cultures was fascinating and something I really wanted to capture with my camera but wasn’t able to accomplish. There is a big mix of cultures in this town, with people coming from all around Asia and Africa. The first image is of sea urchin. It's very popular here. The huge fish the man is cutting is Toro tuna.



Monday I took the bus out of town to Monreale. It is a hillside town with a beautiful church. It was peaceful up there too. Palermo really came alive on Monday after a holiday weekend, which felt good in one moment and stifling in another. Getting out of the city proved to be challenging as the bus fought it’s way through traffic. The bus itself was incredibly crowded, hot, and stuffy and I found myself yet again getting nauseous.
Tuesday was spent in the beach town of Mondello. I got one more beach fix before I return to Rome. It was a great beach and a cute little town.

I’m not sure what I’ll do for my final day in Palermo. I might venture out of town one more time to Monte Pellegrino. I hear it’s gorgeous up there. There is also one more tourist attraction in town that I haven’t been to yet and it’s supposed to be the top attraction here.
At this point I am really excited to return to Rome, which feels like a home away from home right now. When I first got there, I don’t think I thought I would feel that way about it. I’m excited to return to “my neighborhood” of Trastevere for three final nights. I’m excited to catch up with familiar faces. I’m thinking about places to eat and hang out for my final three days. There are sights that I put off for these three days too so hopefully I can see one or two of them. I’m definitely glad that I planned a last hurrah in Rome before returning to my other home.

Cefalu - Day Five

I’ve been in Cefalu for five days now. It’s a great little town and I don’t really feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome yet. I’m not doing a whole lot here. That was the plan: read, write, sleep, and see some sights. I think a week is a really good amount of time if you have the same agenda as me.

One thing that I’ve really wanted to do on this trip, and I didn’t think would happen, was to go to the Aeolian Islands. I got talked out of it earlier in my trip. I was told the weather could be bad up there until about May or June, when their tourist season opens. I was sad about this but figured I would try to go from Cefalu or it wasn’t going to happen this trip.
The office that I rented this apartment from had advertised tours to the islands so I signed up for one. The tour only went one day and the boat was departing from the town of Milazzo instead of Cefalu. Milazzo is about an hour ½ away, on the northeast corner of Sicily.
I met the driver very early in the morning and he took me and three other people to another location where we got onto a large tour bus that would take us to Milazzo. Shortly after the bus departed, a tour guide got up and began speaking…in French. I’m on a French tour of the islands. As if my head isn’t boggled enough with language? I tried listening for maybe the first few minutes and quickly gave up. I zoned out and read my book a little.
Once we got to the port, I realized I had to find out if anyone spoke English or Italian so that I could at least find out what times I needed to be at the boat for departure from each island. The tour was to take us to Lipari and then Vulcano and I had no idea of the schedule. I found one woman who had taken over as the French tour guide and I asked her if she spoke English (forgot about Italian). She quickly introduced me to Giuseppe who would be one of the tour guides on this trip. He was the German-speaking tour guide. Oh, I’m on a German & French tour. I feel like “Its A Small World After All”. An Italian tour would have been good practice. At this rate, Italian is out the window and I’m now working on my French and German. Thankfully, Giuseppe says, “okay English” and makes a mental note to add that to his repertoire for the day. If I could only have that much talent.
We all pile onto the boat, German, French, and me. The boat speeds out across the sea for the hour or so long journey. I initially sat up on the top level of the boat. After about half way, I decided to head down the main level and use the facilities before we got into port. Once I was down there, it was a pretty hairy idea to try and climb the stairs back up to the top level. The sea was really choppy. Waves were crashing onto the back of the boat by the stairs. I didn’t really care if I got wet but I didn’t want to go flying overboard. I’ve had enough excitement on this portion of my trip.
So, I decided to just stay put on the main level. I sat down on a bench that faced backwards in the boat so that I had a nice view of where we had been. It was actually a good spot because there was lots of fresh air. This became very helpful.
I was sitting there watching the wake of the boat and enjoying the feeling of being on a roller coaster. We would go flying through and over waves and catch air and come back down again. I was having a blast.
I slowly started to notice that people weren’t feeling so great. First, this woman came staggering from the bow of the boat towards me, which was by the bathroom. She gets help into the bathroom. She looks Bad. She comes out and plops right next to me. There are about three boat workers who are now standing around in this area. One of them gives her a plastic bag. Next, I notice that there is a very tall man in front of me that doesn’t look very good. He decides to sit on the floor of the boat. (Is this a good idea? It didn’t seem like it to me.) He is sweating buckets. His girlfriend brings him a towel. He also has a plastic bag. On my left side, there is a very pale woman with a plastic bag. The moment I look over at her, she convulses into her bag. I quickly turn away.
Then I notice that the workers are collecting filled plastic bags. Yucky. That almost makes me throw up writing it. The woman behind me has a sick child throwing up. I am literally sitting in the middle of “Barf-o-Rama”. I want to get up and move but I can’t really go anywhere. Getting upstairs would be a major challenge. Moving to the bow is possible but it’s further away from the nice fresh air, which I think is really more helpful than I know, plus the boat is really rocky. I feel a bit like a scene from a movie when the camera focuses on the main person who is sitting very calmly while everything is chaotic around him. I was really having so much fun and didn’t feel sick at all. That was an accomplishment. I felt bad for these people because I’ve definitely been there. I was really grateful that I wasn’t sick.
It was really total comedy but we couldn’t laugh. Finally, Giuseppe and a couple of the workers start clapping their hands and break out into a John Phillip Sousa song (I know it was one of his songs because Jill always hums it). It made us all laugh…at least those of us that weren’t throwing up.
Once we got to Lipari, I had opted to join a bus tour around the island. I figured the tour would be in French or German but I didn’t care. It would give me a chance to see everything. Well, it was in French, German, Italian, and English. Bravo tour guides!
The tour took about an hour and gave us a chance to see all sides of the island plus get out and take a few photos. Afterwards, I had about an hour to walk around the main center. There wasn’t a lot to see but some cute shops and evil pastries.
Next, we took the boat to Vulcano. They have mud baths and thermal springs here. I really wanted to do this but my guidebook said to not wear your best bathing suit because you never get the smell out. Well, I only brought one swimsuit and it was one of my better ones so I opted against it. I watched some people attempt the bath. It wasn’t what I thought. I just looked like a mud puddle versus some thick muddy pool. Apparently it’s very hot too. You aren’t supposed to stay for more than 20 minutes but I saw people barely in there for 2 minutes.

I decided to have lunch and wander around the really small town. Only 700 people live here and I know why. It stinks! The volcano is constantly releasing sulpherous gases. Pee Ewe!
The boat came and picked us up after a few hours and we headed back to Milazzo and to return to our hotels. The ride back was very smooth by comparison and no one needed a barf bag.
I don’t feel too bad that I didn’t see the others, except for Stromboli. I really wanted to see it at night. I think another long visit to the islands would be a very relaxing trip. There isn’t a lot to do there and they are pretty small. Stromboli doesn’t allow motorized vehicles so it would be a very peaceful visit. I’m glad I saw at least two of the islands.
I leave Cefalu on Saturday for Palermo. I have a lot of time there. I’m a bit nervous about spending so much time there, especially after such a relaxing time here. I’m going to do some day trips to places outside of the city and make sure I don’t get too bogged down in the city hustle. It’s surprising to me but I am excited to get back to the chaos of Rome so maybe Palermo will warm me up for it.
Photo is of Vulcano blowing steam.

Viva Liberazione!

I arrived in Cefalu around 5pm, after another boat & train transportation day that started at 10am. I headed straight to the rental agency to check in and pick up the keys to my apartment. After checking in, a boy brought me to the apartment and reviewed everything in it. He showed me where all the dishes were stored, how the lights worked, and how the washing machine worked. Then he was off. The apartment is amazing. It is the top floor unit of a building basically on the beach. There isn’t anything in front of me so I have an unobstructed view.
There is a great terrace with chairs too. That is why I chose the place. That and the screaming deal. I was so excited to be here. The town looks incredibly cute too.
I decided that I would take care of business first. I needed to go to the bathroom and then I would head to the grocery store and pick up some supplies. I wanted to celebrate my great spot.
I popped into the bathroom and shut the door. It didn’t shut so I pulled the door shut. I don’t know why. I’m the only one here.
I did my business and then went to leave. The door handle just spun. It wouldn’t engage and open the door. I thought maybe it had come loose and needs to be turned a few times in one direction and it would tighten up. I tried that and it didn’t work. Okay, no problem. I’ve been able to open doors with a driver’s license. I don’t have my purse with me though. I surveyed the bathroom and there is Nothing. All I see is a cardboard box with a hairdryer in it. I pull off a flap of cardboard and try that on the door. It’s too soft and bends too much. I try pulling the door handle or twisting it. I move it in all sorts of directions. Nothing. Okay. I’m starting to worry.
Door hinges. Right. I could pull those out when I was a little girl. I put my fingers around one of them and it’s covered in rust. All the sea air has rusted them completely. Okay. Starting to worry more. How am I going to get out of here? I go to the window. All Italian windows have shutters on the outside. I can’t open the shutter portion of the window. The handle is also rusty and incredibly stiff. I am really worried. No one knows me here. The agency won’t check on me. They won’t notice anything until the day I check out which is a week from today. I am incredibly tired, hungry, and still fighting this stupid cold/cough. At this point, the thought does cross my mind that I could spend the entire week in this bathroom.
Now, I’m really mad. I just got here. I’ve literally been here for 10 minutes. This place is exactly what I was wanting and I’m stuck in the bathroom.
I go to the window again. I adjust the shutter slates to open and I see a man on the balcony, across the street, at the same level as me. I don’t know what else to do so I start to yell to him in my most polite Italian. “Scusi! Auito! Auito!” It takes him awhile to see me threw the shutters. “La porta in il bagno, non funzione!” This is all I got. I really don’t know what else to stay or more importantly how to say it. I yell “il solo” and repeat my statement again. He’s acts like “what do you want me to do”. I yell again, “parlo un poco Italiano” and repeat my statement. I tell him that there is another person on the first floor, thinking he’ll ring their bell and maybe they can let him in the building or help or something. He kind of has this look like, “oh man, do I have to”. He begrudging leaves his balcony and heads down to the first floor and across to my building.
In the meantime, I am racking my brain for the name of the company I rented from. It was a vrbo.com rental that is managed by an agency and I can’t think of the name. I’m starting to think that the only option is to tell them the address of the agency and hope they are willing to go there for me.
I look out the window again and there is a woman on the balcony below the guy who’s helping me. She starts rapidly speaking to me in Italian/Sicilian. It sounds a bit like she’s yelling (which it does most of the time). Sicilian sounds like an auctioneer speaking Italian with marbles in their mouth. I tell her I only know a little Italian. She makes some motion about my hands sticking out of the shutters. She does this a lot. I copy it once because I thought maybe they needed to see what floor I was on. Then I start to think that she thinks my hands are stuck. I repeat my same sentence to her a few times. She rapid fires Sicilian at me again. I have no idea what she is saying. I lose it. I just start sobbing. I don’t know if anyone is helping me. I can’t understand anyone and they can barely understand me. I’m exhausted, sweaty, hungry, and sick.
She can tell I’m sobbing and seems to mellow out. She’s still trying to tell me something but I can’t understand her.
I keep trying to get the stupid window open too figuring that it will give me more air and maybe more access to yelling at other people on the street. Maybe someone down there speaks a little English and we can work this out with both languages.
I finally get the window open and it is a huge, huge help. I think the woman across the street things I’m going to crawl out of it though. She gets a little more worried and concerned and rattles more Sicilian at me. I don’t understand any of it and I tell her. She gives the Italian hand gesture of two hands forming a triangle that you motion back and forth near your stomach. This isn’t a good gesture.
She is talking to people in my building on the floors below me now. I can’t see them. She says to them that she thinks I’m French. Ha! I understood. She says some more and I understand “agenzia” and “aspetta”. Ha!! They telephoned the agency and I just need to wait. Yeah!!! I didn’t think you were going to help me!!
Then this man leans out of his window, one floor below me and speaks to me in English that it’s okay and the agency is coming. I’m saved!! I want to cry again.

The agency boys arrive and the first one is very young and opens the door for me and then proceeds to come into the bathroom and close it behind him with me still in there. I guess he wants to see what’s going on. Normally, I would have freaked but I could hear another person coming up behind him. I should have hit the kid though. I think he thought he was funny. The other guy comes and opens the door. I run out. They start talking and working on the door to fix it. They are having a grand time and I am just so excited to be out of the bathroom. They fix it and ask me to come into the bathroom to check. No thanks. I believe you. I won’t be closing the door all the way anymore anyway.
I hear the neighbors downstairs yelling for me. I don’t know how I figured that out. I can’t even remember what they said. This is the same man who leaned out of the window and told me in English that it was going to be okay. I ran down there and told them all thank you and shook their hands. I wanted to hug them but I didn’t know if it was appropriate. I wanted to cry again too. They asked if I wanted coffee and I didn’t, but I said “yes”. I went into their home. It was the man and his wife and the neighbor from the first floor. They all retold their stories of hearing me. The wife of this man offered me her homemade strudel that I didn’t need, but I said, “yes” to having a piece. I learned my lesson in Rome, that you never refuse an Italian woman’s food. Plus, it was their way of making me feel better and I gladly accepted those terms.
I told them I had only been here 10 minutes. They spoke in Italian/Sicilian and an occasional English word here and there. The boys that were fixing my place came down when they were done and had coffee and cake too. Of course everyone knew everyone. They young boy is trying to set me up with the older agency representative, Stefano. He keeps asking me what I’m doing that night and if I’ll be in the piazza. At this point, I’m exhausted and tell him I don’t know what my plans are yet.
The strudel maker kept saying that it was “liberazione” and we had to have cake and coffee to celebrate. I agreed!
I don’t think I’ve ever been stuck like that before at least not in a foreign country or in a situation where the chances of getting out felt very slim. I was really, really worried and didn’t know how it was going to resolve itself. I’m so thankful that man was on his balcony watching the people go by. I’m so glad that Italians are the types of people who get involved, talk loudly, and help out. Lastly, I’m so thankful to the man downstairs speaking those few words to me in English, “you are okay”. I felt so good that they brought me into their home and shared their food with me. I feel that I have friends in Cefalu and in this home away from home.
I saw my friends/neighbors tonight as I was walking to the internet cafe. They live in Palermo and just come to Cefalu on the weekends. They will be back on Friday and will call me. It felt so nice to think about someone in this little town being that nice, friendly, and sweet to me. I'm looking forward to seeing them again.

I love my hotel & I love Favignana

I love my hotel. This isn't supposed to be a travel tips blog but I have to go on for just a bit about it. If you ever come to Sicily and can make it to Favignana, which I highly recommend, you have to stay here. It's called Albergo Egadi (www.albergoegadi.it), albergo means hotel and egadi is the name of this chain of islands.
From the moment I walked in I felt like I had come to a spa. I love spas. Nothing I've been staying in has felt anywhere near spa-like. It smelled like roses in the reception area. They brought me to my room which is so cute and so girly. I think the rooms used to be pink or maybe some of the others are but mine is blue. The whole theme of the place is shabby chic/Anthropology, which I do love. I don't know if I could ever decorate this way but I always love it when I see it. My bathroom is massive and the shower is very spa-like. It has a rain shower. I was so excited to see it. I've had some pretty boring showers since I've been over here and there is nothing like being doused by hot water in a shower. I was so excited to take my first shower that I took it shortly after arriving. Unfortunately the shower head wasn't so much a rain shower as a sprinkle. There was another mini hand held shower head that had more impact. It was still a pretty good shower experience.
The hotel also has a restaurant and I decided to eat here both nights. The island is SMALL and this is supposed to be one of the best places on the island. They just serve one prix fix menu so I didn't have any say in my dinner. My first night, I had a salad with shrimp. My first course was pasta with tomatoes & a pate of sorts made from the local favorite - tuna. My second course was grilled swordfish, and ricotta filled canoli's. Yum & Yum.
My second night I started with this insane fried goody. Thin sliced swordfish that is rolled up with ham, cheese, and zucchine. It's rolled in a light coating of bread crumbs and fried. For my pasta course, I had penne with zucchine and shrimp. My second course was a mixed plate of fried items: artichoke hearts, calamari, and some sort of sardine like fish with fish eggs in it. This wasn't my favorite course. Dessert was a local cake that is bright green. It's a cake with a sweet cheese in it, probably sweeten ricotta, and then it is generously covered with a very thin and very sweet frosting like a petit four. It was pretty good. Each night they served Marsala wine with dessert since the town of Marsala is just south of Trapani. I was hoping that local Marsala wine would taste totally different, and thus better, than any I had tried before. It doesn't really. It reminds me of my grandpa and church.
Other than the great hotel and the great dinners, I haven't done much here. I was hoping for a really quiet and relaxing experience and that is what I got.
I rented a bicycle so that I could take in more of the island and it was such a good idea. I think I would have had the biggest grin on my face but I didn't want any bugs landing on my teeth. I did have the biggest grin on my face when I walked my first lap around the center of town. This place is so Cute. It's just really storybook like but not a sugary story. Just really simple and beautiful.
I was hoping to hang out at the beach a bit but the weather was a little coo-coo and not good for hanging on the beach.
This island is famous for tuna fishing and every May they have a big festival where they re-enact the "camera della morte". This involves a series of nets being put in place with the purpose of moving the tuna into the "room of death". Once all the tuna are stuck in nets there, the fisherman stab them with huge spears and bring them on board. The tuna industry isn't really supporting them anymore so they do this festival for the tourists and you can join them on the boats. I didn't witness any tuna fishing but I did watch the men bring in their nets which was a fun site although it brought me more attention than I wanted.
Today I head to Cefalu for a week. I am excited to stay put in one place and explore the sights from there.

Ecco li, ecco la, ecco mi, ecco qua qua qua (sung to the tune of "Valerie, Valeri")

I’m tired of trying to speak Italian. I want to have a conversation in English. I haven’t heard any English speaking people in awhile. There are only bus loads of German retirees. I’m not much good with the German language outside of the basics: “bitter”, “danka”, “Alles klar, Herr Kommissar”. I know that this good for learning Italian and I have had improvement since leaving Rome. After awhile though you just want to have a normal conversation.
I had a car ride to the bus stop, which turned into the train station, by a member of the hotel staff in Mazara. (Long story regarding the transport change and not interesting.) The driver/employee was really cute to the point that I felt not cute and awkward in my “travel clothes”. We tried to talk a bit and found that the other one only new a little of the others language. I kind of deflated a bit and really felt “what’s the point”. I didn’t expect him to speak English but I kind of hoped so that we could talk more “easily”. I didn’t feel like trying to talk to him. It’s hard. He actually did try, so I tried and he’s going to San Diego next summer to visit his mom and brother who are living there. We exchanged email, just in case I can go to San Diego.
This happens to me often. Sometimes I do want to try but I’ve just gotten to that point where I’m tired of trying. When I do try, I usually have an interesting conversation, although a weird one, and it turns out to be a nice experience.

I went to Erice, which is a small town just outside of Trapani. It was a bus ride away and I had been recommended to go there. The bus ride was worse than the road to Hana and worse than the ride to Positano. The road was better than both places but it was a long, steep climb, along the edge of a mountainside with frequent switchbacks. I thought I had missed my bus stop before this climb started so I moved up behind the bus driver to ask him. He said no that we were on our way there. Once I had moved up behind him, we started to chat. He couldn’t believe that I was traveling alone and keep saying that I should have someone with me. This is a common response from the men here. The women usually say “brava” and that I’m courageous. Anyway, we are climbing up this hill, and I am trying to convince myself not to throw up. I am trying to keep my eyes straight ahead. He keeps asking me questions, which should be a good distraction (it’s not). He asks me what I do for a living and I tell him and then he asks what kind of products. Chatty Cathy. I tell him consumer products. He asks is it something you eat. No. So I’m trying to figure out how to say this so I go with “Microsoft”. He doesn’t know the name. Ha! I found that funny. I thought about saying Xbox but I know that Xbox doesn’t resonate in Italy and I couldn’t bring myself to say Playstation, which they understand as a universal word for a video game console. Some stupid old loyalty to my past work wouldn’t let me do it. I ended up saying what I thought was a made up word, “tecnologico" He responded favorably and said, “si tecnologico”. I really thought I made that up and I was hoping it would fly as something close to the real Italian word, enough that he’d understand what I was saying and say the right word.
I was so entertained, but not enough to forget my stomach and motion sickness. The cure for that was found not too long before my bus ride down the mountain. Thank goodness. I was looking for French fries, which you can usually find on menus here. I couldn’t find them in this small town. I then looked for potato chips. Nope. I found a cross between the two – Freeky Fries. Potato chip like substance shaped into a French fry "with a tunnel to please me". They were the miracle cure. I made it down the mountain and back to my B&B without throwing up.
Today I am off to one of the islands you can see in the distance of the photograph, Favignana. There are three islands out there, close to the mainland. There are a couple more islands further out but I’m not going to make it there this trip. I am taking the hydrofoil over there, which should be fun. I haven’t been on one since I was like 12.
These are pictures from Erice.