So apparently I am as good at writing a blog as I am at
keeping a diary.
Not very.
Last time I wrote it was a week before my 22nd
birthday – around 12 weeks ago – and so much has happened since then that if I
put it all into one post, nobody would read it, or at least, if they did,
people would be dying of old age before they got to the end of my ‘essay’.
So I’m going to break it down, into November, December, and
January – much shorter, easier-to-digest chunks.
***
NOVEMBER
When I last wrote, I was about to go off and spend the
weekend with a family in Castelbuono. I was a bit unsure if it was such as good
idea, since I didn’t really know them all that well, and my spoken Italian was
even worse back then.
In the end I had nothing to worry about. We all managed to
communicate perfectly well between English and Italian, they were lovely, warm
and welcoming, and I had a wonderful time. I got to eat all kinds of lovely
home-cooked Sicilian family meals, and it was a great change to get out of
Cefalù for a couple of days.
And it turned out, by fantastic coincidence, that this
particular weekend was the ‘Festa di San Martino’ – the feast day of St.
Martin, who just happens to be the patron saint of wine. We ended up at a house
party in the middle of the countryside, where a bunch of young local
wine-makers had brought along very generous samples of their produce.
When we arrived there was a group of guys trying to get a
barbecue going using a hairdryer, and I think I was the only one who thought
this was a bit odd. It clearly worked for them though, because before long
there were plates full of food EVERYWHERE. I knew the Sicilians love to eat,
but this was just an endless conveyor belt of meat and cheese and bread and
olives and wine! I love how the Sicilians party!
The weekend after that was my 22nd birthday.
Being my first birthday away from family, I was a teensy bit emotional and
feeling just a little bit lonely when I woke up to an empty flat. However, I
cheered myself up with breakfast pancakes and the birthday card from mum and
dad that I’d kept tucked away on my bookshelf.
Next was an amazing lunch with some of the wonderful people
I have met in Cefalù, at Ti Vitti
(which is Siclian dialect for ‘I saw you’). The food was incredible - from the
mixed antipasti of cured ham, salami, cheese and caponata (a Sicilian aubergine
stew), to the pasta main, and the deliciously light cake, topped with fresh
fruit. Of course, as with any decent Sicilian meal, there was also wine!
Although I didn’t expect to receive any presents, I was
lucky enough to be given a beautiful necklace, and some very nice toiletries.
Later, I returned to the flat, for a peaceful evening, catching up with some of
my far away friends.
The next Saturday (24th) I went to Palermo to
catch up with Joel. I was a bit nervous going to find him on my own after the
previous visit, but after spending much of Friday evening studying Google Maps,
I felt quite confident that I’d be able to track him down.
We started out at Quattro Canti, which is the remains of the
ancient centre of the city, beautiful, but also decaying, with lots of
horse-and-cart ‘taxis’ around the square.
We headed towards Teatro Massimo and Teatro Politeama, and
then onwards to the Giardino Inglese, and luckily the weather was beautiful so
there were lots of photo oppurtunities.
Next we returned to Quattro Canti, and off into a side
street that led to the Ballarò street market, which stretches forever in every
direction. I feel quite sure you could buy anything you wanted here – from
whole cheese, to clothes, to giant slabs of fish, to bedding – if you look hard
enough, it can probably be found.
We decided to have lunch at a trattoria in the market, which
we soon realised was a mistake when a group of about 6 ten-year-olds started
firing BB guns at passing cars, stray dogs, and eventually, each other. We all
felt pretty nervous, and neither of us wanted to have our backs to them, so we
ate quickly and moved on.
After lunch we decided to take a slow walk up Via Vittorio
Emmanuele, one of the main streets in Palermo, which leads (eventually), to the
Catacombs. I hadn’t really known what to expect when we arrived, but Joel
insisted that it was worth a visit. It was incredibly strange to walk among so
many mummified bodies, hanging grotesquely, almost as if they’re leering at the
passing tourists. We didn’t stick around for long, and were soon heading back
towards the centre, and the train back to Cefalù.
I’d like to say that day completely changed my view of
Palermo, but that’s not entirely true. I definitely saw a different side to the
city, which I loved, so while I no longer think of Palermo as a dangerous,
scary place, I know that I need to stai attento, and maybe not venture
into the Ballarò alone!
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