Fall Break Part Two: Palermo, Sicily

Sicily was a splash!

A splash of culture.

Of food.

Of the Williams.

And, of course, of the sea.

Oh, and of Picigin.

When we landed in Sicily, it was pretty late (--we had a longish layover in Milan); so Suz and I decided to take a taxi into old-town Palermo. That's when the wonders began. Apparently, there was a celebration of some sort that first night, and people were everywhere. Restaurants were turned out onto the streets, storefronts were all brightly lit, and the cabi, pretty much the only car in this part of the city, was honking his way through throng upon throng of merry-makers. Our eyes grew bigger and bigger, and our mouths all fell agape: "What is going on?!" We were afraid we were going to hit somebody. Of course, we were just ignorant. No one was bothered in the least, and all in great spirits. And there wasn't a celebration at all. It was just Saturday, complete with fireworks at 11:00 at night. The cabi drove us as close as he could to our place, let us out, and then pointed the rest of the way. Backpacks on, following Suzy with her phone, we walked another kilmoeter or two, turned this way and that, and simply became part of the people, ourselves.

Ours was another old, but clean place, off and away from the bustle, but not too far. The world-famous street-food market, for instance, was only a few blocks away.

Scout and Suzy were especially amazed by it. It cracked me up. All these different cultures were present, but they all generally had the same tactic for selling stuff: they'd yelled at you!--pretty much right at you. "Buon giorno! Buon giorno! Buon giorno!" Right in your face. The louder, the better. "Yes!!!" I thought of responding, "it really is a GOOD DAY!...Any olives?!!"

We actually never bought anything there, but we did venture through it a few times, and I think the kids did finally learn how to smile about it, too. (Not sure the first day of high school is going to faze these three much.) We ate some pizza instead (--had heard the further south you go in Italy the better the pizza, and I'm not going to lie, it was easily the best pizza I have ever had).

Then we hit a few tourist sites: San Giovani,

the Norman Palace,

with its amazing Capella Palatina

(--Suzy and I both generally don't go for the gaudy gold, but the beauty of this place was undeniable!),

and we went to some other church, too.

If you know your architecture, you might recognize distinctly different styles right next to each other--working together, I mean, in the same building. They say Palermo is the most conquered city in the world. That seems like a funny thing to be proud of, but what it means is that all these disparate cultures are fused together--are what you learn to call Sicilian, and beautiful. Consider, for instance, the Norman Palace--it's still like the center of Palermo--that and the Opera House--and gelato. Right, by this time, we were a bit tuckered out, but we had a major draw in the city center: can you believe it, there was a one-time-a-year ice cream festival with vendors from all over the world happening that very day!

I've never had flavors like that: pesto, applesauce, chili, lime-ginger-tumeric--those were just a few. Each bite was a different flavor--and the fact that literally every corner of the world was represented simply made sense. Oh, and we ate so much that afternoon that we all decided to call it dinner (--"decided" is not really the right word for it). While you might give me and Suzy full marks for arranging our day in such a way as to keep the kids interested and moving, I'm not sure there are any parenting awards for how we ended up. Actually, I don't know how, but none of us were made sick by it. I was afraid, but we were just jumping through the whole day!

Anyway, the next day, we headed to the beach: Modello.

The waves were surprisingly good, and the boys broke out their snorkles

--oh, and we set a family record in Picigin: 43 touches! (Not baaa, Andy and Rhys.) We were trying to get to 50, but it was sand-castle time, and that was that.

That night, we returned to old-town, ate at one of the inside-out restaurants we nearly ran over on our first night there,

and then, you know it, we decided to share a 999-year-old canoli, before eating more gelato. Sicily is the place where both the canoli and ice cream were invented--so, again, "decided" is not the right word here. And, I must tell you, this stuff was legit--both making it into our top-five lists: best desserts, and best gelato. (That reminds me, I have to give you the new updated lists...)

Suz and I ran the next morning and gained a pretty cool vista of the city, a kind of goodbye.

The guys boned up on some Ninjago, and then we were off to Cefalu, the beach town where the Williams were biking to meet us and to close out their own trip.

But here I will stop, not because I doubt your own stamina, but because Cefalu was so great--such a wonderful culminating moment that it deserves its own post, for which you'll have to wait another day or two. Here's just a little taste of it:

More coming soon...