Category: Travel

1082 miles (that’s what 1741 kilometers looks like!) – that’s how far I traveled by CAR on this trip. Add another 12,171 miles of airline travel and what I estimate to have been about 200+ miles of walking the streets, fields, farms & museums of Sicily & Italy and I understand why my body is still aching 6 weeks later!  

I put this little map together so you could get a pictorial view of the trip.  I think it’s pretty impressive to see how much of Sicily I actually did see.  Despite all this driving, there are still so many places I missed.  But luckily, there’s always another trip!

**Click on the link below to go to a site called “Tripline”.  You’ll see my map and you’ll be able to use the plus & minus keys on the right to drill up & down on the map.  The numbers tie to the descriptive key below the map, so be sure to scroll down as well.  Enjoy!!

**This cover image is courtesy of my Aunt Shirley, a die-hard SF Giants fan (formerly devoted to the SF 49ers . . . and then,  Joe Montana retired!) who sent me these little “accomplishment” kudos throughout the trip.  

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After 75 hours of pure, unadulterated bliss, I drive out of the gates of Occhipinti for the Catania Airport.  It was an easy drive and the GPS took me north through many small towns.  I discovered that Occhipinti, while remote, was not as far off the beaten path as I had thought.  No worries, I didn’t really need to visit these little places anyway!

I noticed these 2 little flower heads tucked into my windshield and amazingly, they stayed with me for the entire drive.  I decided they were my Mom & Dad shepherding me safely back home.  I smiled as I took this picture, as Mom had asked me often about the yellow daisies on the hillsides. . . and yet here again, there was a “sign”.

Finding the airport was easy; finding the rental car lot was ridiculous.  The GPS had completely failed me at this point and I just kept following & trying to read the Italian language signs.  I’ve rented a LOT of cars in my life, from many different airports, and I can honestly say, I’m lucky to have found this one. 

I unload the car and snap some quick pictures of my “flower shepherds” and Mt Etna – who was still spitting fire & smoke (a full 6 weeks after she started in mid-March).  I felt lucky that she decided not to “blow” completely, while I was visiting Sicily. 

I walk for about 10 minutes, luggage in tow, to the terminal & find check-in to be a piece of cake.  The gal at the counter is really nice, checks my big suitcase, and tags both my carry-ons.  I’d finally learned to consolidate my belongings into 3 bags!  I head upstairs to security, as I’m dying of thirst & have to go to the bathroom.  The lines are not too long and I’m quickly on the other side after a quick “pat down” by security; the scanners had discovered my titanium fortified hips!  Another gal says, “is this your bag”?  I say, “yes” and she asks if I have marmalade in my bag.  I say no, but you’re welcome to look inside.  She pulls out 2 jars that are wrapped in paper and asks what’s inside.  I start to unwrap one to show her that it’s just pistachio cream and she informs me that I cannot take these on the plane.  She offers to let me go & check them, but it’s been at least 10 minutes since I was downstairs and I’m sure my bag is already on its way to the plane.  I sadly relinquish them to her and say, “I hope you enjoy them” and she says, “I can’t take them, you’ll have to throw them away”.  I almost pull out a spoon to eat them right there – but instead, I get teary eyed and mad! 

I find a bathroom & wipe my face; then I find a café with gelato.  However, their gelato is only in the form of “popsicles” – but I’m in bad need of some pistachio gelato, so I grab one anyway.  It was the shits! 

At the gate, I hear a lot of Americans – loud & pretty obnoxious Americans – and I’m getting pretty annoyed.  I’m thinking to myself . . really, this is how my wonderful trip’s going to end?  Throwing out $25 worth of delicious pistachio cream and having people think I’m one of these obnoxious Americans??  I speak only Italian until I’m safely on the plane hoping it will at least set me apart from these obnoxious Americans!

I sit down next to a nice couple and begin talking with the woman who is afraid of flying.  I assure her all the sounds are normal and her husband is thrilled that I am distracting her.  She asks me about my travels and is so impressed that I’ve done this trip by myself (at least part of it!).  She says she wishes she was that brave and sets a goal that she will travel more in the future; her husband is smiling now!

Turns out they are with the obnoxious Americans who are a group of about 60 from all over the United States and they all work for Piggly Wiggly.  If you’ve never been to the South, you may not have heard of this chain – but it’s one of the largest grocery chains in the U.S.  Apparently, the founder of Piggly Wiggly is a “local boy made good” from Palermo, Sicily and he put this trip together to reward all the high performers in the company.  The trip sounded amazing and filled with tons of great accommodations, tours, fantastic food & special events.   This couple aside – the rest of them were still obnoxious!

We arrive in Rome and I collect my bag and mourn my loss of pistachio cream!  I head out for the 10 minute walk to the Rome Airport Hilton (where I had stayed when I arrived 5 weeks earlier) and look for my friend, Francesco at the desk.  He’s not there – but the clerk that checked me in was very nice and I was quickly settled in my room.  It was about 9:30pm, but I’d had nothing but that lousy pistachio popsicle & some peanuts on the plane, so I went downstairs to get some dinner.

I look forward to “my last meal”!  I order the same salad that I’d had 5 weeks ago, some pasta with clams & mushrooms, and a glass of wine.  They brought that great basket of assorted breads and the bottle olive oil with its handwritten lot number, with the date it was bottled – and I dug in!

The salad was good, but not quite as outstanding as it had been 5 weeks before (I assumed it had to do with my mood and the fact that I had had so many great meals since to compare it to).  The pasta was downright disappointing.  There was no sign of clams, as they’d taken them out of the shells and just tossed them in; the mushrooms were non-existent.  I ate about half of it – and quit.  The wait staff was sort of sharing service at my table so different servers kept stopping by.  I told a couple of them about my pistachio cream “theft” and asked if they had anything pistachio for dessert.  “How about some pistachio gelato?”  My response: “Perfetto!”

When dessert arrived, I was sure they had taken pity on me.  Not only was it the largest serving of gelato I had ever seen, it was covered in chopped pistachios.  Who cares what else I ate that night, I was in pistachio gelato heaven.  I ate the entire HUGE serving and went to bed smiling . . and stuffed!

The next morning, I pack for the last time & head downstairs to check out.  As I come up to the desk, I see my friend, Francesco (see my “27 Hours to Rome” post if you haven’t already read it).  I get in line, but he looks up from what he’s doing and I smile and say “do you remember me?” and he excitedly says, “yes Madam” and waves me over.  We are so excited to see each other and he starts to tell his associate all about my story.  He remembered my long trip over, my Sicilian itinerary and my quest to find some ancestors.  When I told him that I’d found a cousin, he got so excited and wanted to hear the details.  I told him that I had put him in my blog and gave him the URL so he could check it out.  I found out he was over his failed relationship and was already dating (if you saw how cute he was, you’d wouldn’t be surprised at this news . . I’m sorry, I was so distracted that I forgot to take a picture of him for this blog).  We said our good-byes and I headed back to the airport.

The 10 minute walk back to the terminal was followed by another 15 minutes of walking to get to the gate, after check-in.  Along the way, I stopped for some breakfast and got a fresh OJ and a croissant.  Both sucked!  The duty free shops were plentiful and crowded, but I slipped into one to pick up a few chocolates & cookies for Scott.  A refrigerator case held packages of salumi and at this point, the protein looked pretty good.  I selected a package & went to the counter to pay.

Five more minutes of walking and I finally arrived at the gate.  I did a little stretching in prep for the long flight & sent some text messages to my new friends.  I hear back from my friends Marty & Lynne (Australia, via Santa Cruz couple) that are in Honduras, but are wondering if I’ve seen their luggage in Rome??  Oh no!  Ana sends a message from Occhipinti that they missed me at breakfast.  After what I’ve eaten this morning, I feel the same way!

I board and find myself sitting in the middle seats with a guy with a big pack of anti-bacterial wipes.  He hands me one and says we need to clean off all the germs so we won’t get sick and then he takes out all his “comfort gear”.  Once we take off, he puts on his headphones, his eye mask, his neck pillow and pulls a blanket around himself.  He sleeps for most of the flight (and I swear he paid for that middle seat so he’d be comfortable as he slept his way across the Atlantic).  That was absolutely fine with me!!

They serve lunch and it’s Shepard’s pie – strange choice coming out of Rome!  I’m still hungry, so I pull out the package of salumi and chow down.  Boy, do I love my protein!  About an hour later, the flight attendants come around with ICE CREAM!  It’s vanilla –  and it’s delicious!

We arrive in Chicago and the customs area is packed.  Multiple announcements come over the loud speaker asking that you identify yourself, if you’ve been on any farms or in touch with any livestock while traveling.  Since I’ve stayed at three agritourism sites and petted more farm animals than I’m sure I remember, I select the button on the declaration screen & get back in line.

At customs, I quickly tell the officer about my farm stays and he seems completely uninterested.  He asks what I was doing in Sicily, is happy with my response, and waves me through.  I grab my luggage off the carousel and get into another line for the agriculture check point.  I hear an announcement asking all the agriculture officers to report to the desk and I’m sure they’re going to want details about my visits.  However, the officers are just waving people through.  I don’t want to be arrested or detained if I don’t declare the farm stays, so I make sure to proactively stop & tell the officer.  He asks me, “Are your shoes dirty?”  I’m wearing the tennis shoes that I’ve worn almost every day of my trip and I lift up my foot to show him the soles.  Then he asks if I want to have my shoes cleaned.  I ask if he thinks I need to have them cleaned and he says, “they’re your shoes, you have to decide if they need to be cleaned”.  At this point, I decide that he really doesn’t care and frankly, I’m too tired to care either.  So I say, “no, they’re fine” and he waves me through.  Whatever!

I get on the train to transfer to another terminal for my Alaska Airlines flight and call Amy to check in.  I tell her I’m dying for a hamburger and while I’ve already had 3 meals “today” – it’s only 4pm in Chicago and I won’t arrive in Seattle until 10pm (local time) that night.  8 hours to go before I’m home?  Yep, I’m having meal #4 and the hamburger I’m craving.  After passing through security, I see Publix – a pub that I’ve eaten at many times in the Chicago Airport.  I order their classic burger and an ice tea and am feeling a little punchy at this point (I have to add – it’s like 1am in Rome and I haven’t slept at all).  The burger hits the spot BIG TIME.  I’m full . . and happy!

I move to my gate and find that the flight is delayed.  It will be at least an hour late.  About an hour & a half later, we’re boarded and off to Seattle.  The flight is full, but uneventful, but I still don’t sleep.  We arrive about an hour late and Scott is patiently waiting at the cell phone lot.  I text him that I’ve got my luggage and he pulls up to the curb with a big smile & a big hug!  We talk all the way home, so still no sleep.  We arrive home , I’m exhausted and ready to sleep. 

27 Hours to Rome . . . 25 Hours to Home!   **I just realized that rhymes 😊

April 16

Paolo, my B&B host, had arranged for a boat trip to the Islands of Favignana & Levanzo off the coast of Trapani.  He said they were beautiful and this is a trip I had to make.  I wake, dress and go to the breakfast room.  The only other guests that morning are the Italian couple that I’ve heard, but missed meeting for the past couple of days (they are early risers, I am not!).  Paolo mentions that the Italians are going on the boat trip too – and off they go.  Breakfast is beautiful & plentiful, but I decide since I’m getting onto a boat, I better eat light.  Turns out – that was a smart move!

I walk down to the harbor; the weather is looking a little overcast and it looks like it could even rain.  I go up to the booth to pay the balance of my fare and the gals that are checking people in are pretty funny.  We get into a conversation about change because the 50E I’m trying to pay with is not going to fly.  I end of scrounging change & some smaller bills to get it paid.  I ask why is it that the bancomat’s give out 50E bills if no one has change?  And then add, why do people seem to hoard coin in this country??  (I should mention that one of the gals spoke really good English – because I’m sure my Italian is not good enough to have had this conversation otherwise!!).  She says that they just don’t make enough coin . . really!  And apparently 5E bills are really hard to find.  Really??  I jokingly say, “maybe you guys should start printing & making your own” and she loves that and starts to tell the rest of the crew that this is really what they should do and they’re all chiming in, getting into this, and thinking this is a really good idea.  My God, what have I started??  This is Mafia country and I’ve just made a really bad suggestion that very well could land me in cement boots at the bottom of the harbor – because I’m suggesting cutting in on the Mafia’s action.  Kari – shut up and get on the boat!!!

I board the boat & look around for a seat and see my Italian B&B mates.  I decide, what the heck, it’s high time I meet them.  So I go over & ask if I can join them at their table & introduce myself.  Their names are Vincenzo (always a good sign) and Shelia.  They don’t speak much English but Vincenzo is trying really hard and I’m trying equally hard with my basic Italian – and guess what? – we become fast friends.  During the course of the next hour I find out that they’re from Livorno, Italy (that’s on the coast just south of Pisa), that Vincenzo is a retired policeman but it now involved in some type of restaurant, that they have 3 kids & 5 grandchildren – and that they do not get seasick! 

The farther we travel, the worse the sea is getting and the boat is really pitching right & left.  Thank God it’s not hot – cause the combination would have put me over the edge.  And while I didn’t eat much, I still feel like I could hurl my breakfast – but I’m cracking up & trying to speak English and Vincenzo is asking me every 5 minutes if I’m OK.  The tour guide comes by to ask if we want to go on a walking tour when we arrive and while I really just want to know how much longer I have to be on the boat before I can stand on dry land – Vincenzo says “yes” and pays the fee for the three of us.  Oh well, I’m going on a walking tour!   At that point, the guide said it would be about 15 minutes; it felt like 50!  We’re finally docking & I’m like the 5th person off of the boat.

The walking tour is interesting, but everyone’s getting frustrated that it’s taking so long because the guide has to repeat everything in Italian and English, so people are wondering off and doing their own thing.  Since Vincenzo treated & I’m now getting special attention from the guide (as I’m the only one left that speaks English) I decide to stick it out.  Contrary to Paolo’s insistence that I make this trip, Favignana is not that glorious or impressive.  But it’s quaint and it’s got some interesting history about quarries, a family that owned the place, and the tuna massacre story – that it’s plenty of info to hold my interest.   We finish up across from the Tuna Museum and are told we have about 75 minutes more to explore on my own.  I tell Shelia & Vincenzo that I’ll meet them back at the boat and head to the Museum (I just can’t seem to get enough fishing stories on the trip – who’s channeling me now??). 

The whole story of the Tuna Museum and the Great Tuna Massacre is pretty cool and mighty impressive.  I’ve heard most of my life stories about how hard it was at sea for my grandfather when he fished and how many accidents he had while fishing that could have ended his life – so I knew fishing was hard work.  This place brings that home loud & clear.  These guys used to build this “compound” of nets, up to 10 miles in length along the tuna’s swimming route.  The tuna would end up in the last “chamber” called the “death room” where the fisherman were waiting with spears.  Now, these are BIG fish and it took multiple spears and multiple men to kill them & haul them into the boats and these fish did not come in without a big old fight – hence the danger to these men.  The museum is full of stories, and videos, and boats, and equipment that all tell the story of the Great Tuna Massacre.  It also has about 24 holograms of the people of Favignana telling their stories.  Fishermen, their wives, various workers from the processing plant (the museum is where the tuna were brought for processing) all telling their stories.   Of course, they were all speaking Sicilian so I wasn’t completely certain of what they were saying, but nevertheless, very cool to watch.

Check out the links below if you would like to read more on the Great Tuna Massacre.  This method of fishing was used for thousands of years – but the reduction in tuna populations and the method (considered inhumane by some) has forced fishermen to adapt to more conventional types of fishing.

On my way back to the boat, I stop into a pharmacy in hopes of scoring some TUMS – but they have no idea what I’m talking about and try to sell me laxatives (last thing I need on a boat).  I grab a lemon granite instead because surely, sorbet will help calm my tummy!   Back on the boat, the captain says we’re going to go over to a calm & quiet cove to drop anchor and have lunch.  The crew goes to work like an efficient catering operation dropping utensils, napkins, cups and a bottle of wine on each table.  We’re then served the traditional sandwich of Trapani – which I’ve had every morning at Paolo’s and have fallen in love with, so I am happy (Paolo’s were better though).  I’m going to make these for my Dad . . Trapanese bread topped with sesame seeds (left over from Arab occupation apparently) filled with olive oil, parmesan cheese, slices of fresh Sicilian tomatoes and chopped Castelvetrano olives (my favorite).  Yum, Yum!!   Then we’re served a big plate of Trapenese pasta (but again, I’ve had this before).  It’s not like the one I had at the cooking school (which was fresh & better) but it’s good and seems to be settling in my tummy OK.  Dessert is a cup of fresh strawberries and bananas.  Did I mention, Vincenzo is pouring wine through the whole meal and I’m really not that successful at pushing back . . after all, I was raised to be grateful for the generosity of others!

They raise the anchor and we set off for the island of Levanzo.  It’s supposed to be about 25 minutes – feels like 25 hours!!  The sea has really gotten hostel now and the boat is pitching even worse than before.  Shelia is sitting closest to the window and water is coming in and getting her wet & soaking the table we’re sitting at.  We’re all laughing as the crew comes running with towels to try to dry her & everything else off.  I’m feeling the effects again – and this time my stomach is a bit more full of food.  But just as I think I must go outside and get some air, the very best distraction arises at the next table.  A woman starts singing what sounds like an Italian folk song & every one that can, chimes in.  There’s now about a dozen of these Italians, singing at the top of their lungs, banging “percussion” on the tables and having the time of their lives.  Now a woman is standing on the bench and directing the songs and they just keep singing for the next 15 minutes.  The captain comes down & joins in too (who is driving this boat anyway?).  Vincenzo chimes in and turns out he has a GREAT voice.  For the rest of the day and evening, he serenades Shelia & me (I found out later that they’d only been married for 2 years and Vincenzo is madly in love with his new bride – so the serenading was really for her).   I wish I had felt well enough to pull out the camera and take some video of this “concert” but I was just trying not to hurl!

We arrive at Levanzo (finally) and I now understand why Paolo insisted I make this trip.  This place is quintessential Mediterranean and I think I might want to live here.  Population: 80.  Don’t they have room for 1 more??  I took my best pictures on this island, including the beautiful orange boat that’s the headline for this post.  I was so proud of this picture that I emailed it to my Dad the next day.  He said I was developing an artistic eye – first time I’ve ever heard that in my life.  While my talents are many – artistic has never been one of them.  Who says an old dog can’t learn new tricks!! 

I decide I’m riding up top on the way back – I need the fresh air.  I end up talking with this great woman all the way back.  She’s half French & half English.  She & her husband have 4 boys (12-17) and they’re living in Milan.  She’s a family practice doctor (wanted to be an anesthesiologist – but the 4 boys killed that) and her husband is an architect.  They just finish 6 years living in France and she hated it.  She said she doesn’t like what the French have become (didn’t ask what that meant, just happy to have a nice French lady, speaking English to me after weeks of Italian!!).  Milan is their dream city and they will probably stay there as long as they can (and the kids are in American school, because it’s the best – go figure – these Europeans are constantly surprising me!!) 

We’re back on dry land and I try to invite Vincenzo & Shelia to join me for a gelato (it’s that time of day) but Vincenzo says, no, we’ll get one tonight (I forgot to mention that they invited me to join them for dinner that night).  I go for a gelato anyway and they walk back to the B&B.

At 8pm, we meet up & start walking to the restaurant where I must have the pistachio pesto & prawns that they had a few nights ago.  I’m definitely in!  But, it is Easter Sunday after all and the place is closed.  Bummer!  We walk down the harbor in search of something else – everything seems to be closed.  We find one place that’s setting tables and ask if they’re open – no, they just closed.  Vincenzo tells the owner that I’m an American from San Francisco and that he needs to make a good showing so does he have any suggestions.  The owner makes a few calls and then says, why don’t you just come home with me and have dinner with my family.  Of course, if it had just been me, I would have taken him up on it in a heartbeat (as I was told, never refuse an invitation in Sicily) but Vincenzo thanks him and we move on.  We find ourselves back up on the main drag and by this little pizzeria (for point of clarification, they have stuff other than pizza) that I ate at the first night in Trapani (and where my new friend, Tony the waiter, works).

We’re greeted enthusiastically by Tony – and Shelia & Vincenzo are so impressed that I know this guy.  Tony & Vincenzo are babbling in Italian – so fast I can’t really understand all they are saying, but I’m pretty sure that it was about me!  Vincenzo orders a bottle of delicious wine and asks what I would like to eat.  When I say the chicken piccatta – he says kind of disgusted that I must have fish.  The next thing I know, he’s ordered for all of us and it’s bottarga (salt cod) bruschetta and swordfish agrodolce – both delicious – and I am shown that Sicilian machismo is not dead!  Vincenzo orders me tiramisu for dessert and despite not liking coffee or tiramisu, I happily gobble it down (remember, I was raised right!).   I take out my wallet to pay and Vincenzo says – no, it’s all taken care of.   Friendship & generosity – what a nice way to spend Easter.

The next morning, we say our good byes over breakfast, as Sheila & Vincenzo are heading over to Ragusa for a few more days of vacation.  We tell Paolo all about our day and night and he seems very pleased that we’ve all made a connection.  I hug Sheila good bye and then go to Vincenzo.  He gives me a big bear hug and then places his hands on my shoulders, holding them like he wants me to pay attention.  In his very best English, he says, “I love you” – with a smile as big as Sicily!  He makes me promise to call when I get to Livorno or Pisa and promises he will come pick me up whenever I call. 

My Dad was worried about my being alone for Easter. 

It was never meant to be Dad. 

Vincenzo & Sheila were sent to me to ensure I had an Easter to remember . . . and I wouldn’t be alone.   And, when the best picture of the trip is of a boat named Antonina that I found, bobbing in the water, on Easter Sunday . . .  I most definitely, was not alone.

Footnote – I was really curious about this policeman turned restaurant connection with Vincenzo and ended up asking Shelia endless questions to get a real understanding of what it was (her English was almost non-existent – so I really had to work hard at my Italian).  Turns out Vincenzo had opened a Pasticceria (bakery) and was the head baker.  She showed me tons of pictures of his creations.  Small world, no wonder we connected so strongly!

April 14 – 17

I planned to spend Easter (Pasqua) in Trapani – the farthest west of would be on the island of Sicily – at least for this trip.  I had heard that the best Easter Celebration on the island was in Trapani and I decided that it would be cool to see & experience that.  In communications with the B&B host, I came to realize that arriving on Good Friday was not a good idea – as the entire town would be in celebration mode and it would difficult to drive in the city.  I also found out that the “procession” route (more on that later) would be a mere 50 meters from the front door of the B&B; finding the B&B during this time would be impossible.

I asked if the B&B had room for me to come earlier and luckily, they could extend my stay.  So I packed up my perfect little retreat at the beach and headed out.  With the stops in Selinunte and other towns that day, (see Selinunte post if you haven’t already) it took most of the day.  I arrived in Trapani in the late afternoon and the GPS took me on a bit of a wild ride, but I found it (down a really narrow street) and called the host to come grab my bags.  He put them inside the door and jumped in the car to come with me to find parking.   A few big blocks away, we found free parking, and that’s where the car stayed for the next 5 days.

Paolo, the host, was a great guy.  32 years old, really cute, and very accomplished.  He spent 5 years with Carnival Cruise lines as the 2nd officer of a ship.  He now works for a European line & owns / runs the B&B.  He told me his schedule is 4 months on the ship, 2 months off at home and then repeat.  He says while it’s been great to see the world, it’s so hard to find love with this schedule.  I told him a guy like him probably has “a gal in every port” . . he blushed!  I met his mother the next morning, as she oversees things when he’s gone at sea and puts together breakfast most mornings (but let me tell you, Paolo did breakfast by himself one morning and it was actually more spectacular than his mother’s spread, so the guy can cook!).  After a few days, I mentioned my niece, Misha, to him and told him I’d make an introduction.  I told him she was independent and spoke fluent Spanish.   Who knows if anything will come of it, but it was fun to try to make an international love connection!!

Anyway, Paolo does a great job of educating me on the geography of the city – and more importantly, on the festivities that will occur over the next 4 days.  Starting with Venerdi Santo (Good Friday) and the 24 hour procession that will start at 2pm the next day.  This is what I came for – so I’m listening with great interest.  But really, you have to experience it to really understand it.  I took a TON of pictures & some video so you can get a basic idea – but it’s a really hard thing to get pictures of, because you’re kind of fighting for space with everyone else who also wants to get pictures.  More on Vernerdi Santo later.

That first night, I walk the main streets of the city center and decide to stop into a little pizza place for dinner.  A little salad, wine & pizza and I’m set.  A couple comes in & sits at the table next to me and they are “ripe”.  If you’ve never been to Europe, you probably don’t know that Europeans (especially the French, don’t always use deodorant or bathe every day).  I’m listening to them & trying not to breathe through my nose, and end of asking them where they are from because I can’t really hear her, but he’s speaking English with some interesting accent.  She’s English, he’s French, she doesn’t speak French.  They just got married & live in England.  Really nice, but as I said, really ripe!  By the end of the meal, the waiter, who has introduced himself as Tony, and I are old friends.  He talks me into a parfait thing with chocolate & cream – he was right – it was delicious. 

I spend the first morning walking & exploring the wharf.  Like Sciacca, it’s a huge fishing port and has a terrific fish market (Mercato di Pesce).  There are all kinds of goodies fresh from the sea and a whole bunch of characters selling it all.  I get really good at saying “mi dispiace, no cucina” (I’m sorry, no kitchen) when they beg me to buy their seafood.  I stop at this one booth and ask if I can take some pictures and this old fisherman falls in love with me.  He’s asking me lots of questions in Italian and keeps holding my hand & telling me how pretty I am.  He asks me where I live and I say Seattle and he smiles and keeps saying “bella, so bella”.  Then he asks where my husband is and I say “he’s in Seattle, I came alone” and he gets so excited & is so proud of me for making the trip alone.  One of the younger guys in back chimes in in English, “He’s in Seattle? That’s great!” and he’s laughing & smiling.  Italian men seem very impressed with us woman traveling alone . . though I think it’s just for foreign woman, as I don’t believe they’d be as supportive of “their” women leaving to travel alone! 

Here’s a picture of my new friend – sorry, I never did get his name.

I continue to walk the town and take a lot of pictures of the buildings.  While the tour books have said that Trapani is not that much to look at, I find it really beautiful.  There are plenty of buildings that could rival any of the towns I’ve been visiting & the streets are very quaint.  You can check out the pictures and judge for yourselves.  There was one building that I saw that looked like a haunted house; I sent the pictures to Amy and said “this place gives your frequent house TP-ing raids a run for their money”!

I continue walking down the huge waterfront where all the commercial boats are and find my way to the edge of the city center that’s the farthest point from my B&B and the last point on the map that Paolo has used to educate me.  All around me, the festivities for Venerdi Santo are ramping up.  American commercialization is everywhere – Disney, comic characters, Hollywood, super heros & animals – all epitomized in balloon or toy form.  I took a bunch of pictures for Sienna & Viola, as I knew they would love them.

I move onto Via Garibaldi and find a bunch of little cafes and stop to have lunch.  I start with Pasta all Norma (one of the national dishes of Sicily) and then move to grilled swordfish.  Both pretty delicious.  I head to the main drag (Vittorio Emanuele – this street name by the way, is in every town) and the procession is in full swing.  First I hear the bands, then I see the crowds.  I look toward the crowd & see my first “mystery” – huge “float” representing the phases of Jesus Christ’s punishment, crucifixion and resurrection.  This is not just pomp & circumstance, this is tradition, and these Trapanese people take it VERY seriously.  I’d estimate that about 3000 people took part in this procession over the next 24 hours.  They literally stayed up all night long: men carrying these mysteries through the street, kids & adults marching in costume & demonstrating pretty impressive synchronized steps, bands playing & marching – and demonstrating those same synchronized steps, banners being carried, flags being waved, and tons of people following them and snapping pictures.  I found out later that they do take shifts, so no one really was participating for the “full 24 hours” – but nonetheless, pretty impressive commitment on the part of these people.  I also found out they have done this EVERY year for the past 400+ years.  Amazing!

I watched for about 4 hours, moving through the crowd as best I could & changing positions, even moving to different streets, to get as much exposure as I could.  I took a break & had some dinner (or maybe just a big gelato, I really don’t remember) and then went back when it was dark to get some pictures of these things all lit up, candles burning.  People were looking pretty tired at this point, but no one was really slowing down.  At 10pm, there were even 5, 6 & 7 year old’s marching in this procession.

I went back to my B&B, put in ear plugs and went to sleep – still hearing the powerful music that the bands had been playing all day.  I woke up about 8am, took out my ear plugs and the music was still playing (literally, not just in my head!).  After I had breakfast & got dressed, I went out to see how they were doing.  Surprising to me – they were all still there: marching, playing music & honoring the tradition.  I tell you – MOST IMPRESSIVE to see this kind of perseverance & commitment!

**Click on the link below to see pictures.  Please note that I have also included a number of videos – these are at the end of the reel.  The last 2 videos are of a girl that I couldn’t stop watching.  She reminded me so much of my friend, Anna Kelly, who is an amazing performer.  I’ve had the pleasure of watching Anna dance at my wedding (when she was 5), as well as sing & perform in a number of youth productions – she’s fantastic!  I had to stop video-ing this girl, as I was afraid she’d think I was some kind of weirdo.  She was so graceful & it was funny to see her completely ignore the boy who was so desparately trying to get her attention!! 

I jotted down some observations that afternoon, as I wanted to remember to share them with you.  Here’s my list . . just thoughts. . not edited for content, grammar or punctuation!

·       They were wearing so many clothes . . wool sweaters, full suits, black ensemble with decorative stuff on top, heavy boots, drapes on their heads, hats, smocks – SO MANY clothes

·       Some of the guys look like they are going to collapse under the weight of these mystery – others look like they had figured it out & had practiced a lot

·       There are all these bosses . . telling the kids, the band, the flag bearers, the other guys what to do – both men & women.  The men look like mafia bosses – all serious & commanding – they walk around with their arms crossed looking stern.  The women bosses are all pretty bitchy – dirty looks, quick quips to put someone in line, a mamma’s eye to keep everything perfect & in line.

·       Some of the bosses were younger woman – like the ones that had come up in the ranks and were now showing the younger crew what to do

·       I made note at the 4 ½ hour mark and I have to stay the participants are dragging . . some were dragging pretty bad at the 2 hour mark . . Paolo was going out while I’m coming back – so reinforcements are on their way!  Can’t wait to see how it looks tomorrow morning at 10am!

·       This is very serious business and lots of time & money has been spent to represent these churches, rotary groups, fraternities, etc(barbers & perfume shops).

·       Ecce Homo (Latin for “behold the man”) group – most scary and well organized (but the guys looked like they were going to drop) – one of the stronger bands, very ominous indeed.  Very mafioso.

·       All these guys accompanying the group – like godfathers!  I thought they were “extras” for when someone gets tired, but I changed my vantage point a couple of times (so saw some groups 2 and 3 times) and the guys were the same.  Go figure – just more people to boss the participants around. 

·       Bands playing serious, ominous music – same 2 or 3 songs.  I’m going to be hearing this in my sleep – literally & figuratively – as I can hear it loud and clear as I sit in my B&B room.

·       There a sort of constant movement by the participants and way of walking & standing with a sway – they do it as a group.   At first I thought was a way of getting some relief from all that walking & standing – but after really studying it – I think it’s to keep their movement / walking in rhythm with the music & the pace of the procession. 

·       Clapper thing used to coordinate “set down” and “pick up” of the float!

·       Drone came flying overhead to capture the events – everyone starting talking about the drone & kind of stopped paying attention to the procession for a few minutes.

·       Procession follows a route that’s about 2 miles as far as I can tell (I walked it today multiple times).  I had to go way out of my way AND cross the parade route (at an opportune time, as not to be a rude American!) just to get back to my B&B.  At least I’m really learning the city center!

·       They’re always smoking!

·       On a couple of the bigger mysteries, I counted up to 64 men carrying them.  Incredible!

Promptly at 2pm – the last mystery is taken inside the Chiesa San Francesco and the music stops.  The participants, all in glorious uniforms & costumes disband all over the streets reuniting with family and drinking LOTS of water.  By 3pm, the town is back to normal, but there is garbage everywhere.  Venerdi Santo is over – but the Pasqua celebrations are just beginning!

Points of clarity . . . I find out later in the weekend that there are actually 18 different mysteries.  As I mentioned earlier, they are a collection of scenes from the persecution, crucifixion & resurrection of Jesus Christ.  The groups carrying them are all “unions” of a sort . . my note about the barbers & perfumers was actually incorrect – it was barbers & hairdressers.  There was also the union of fishermen (not surprising in this neck of the woods) bread makers, shoemakers, etc.  I guess it would have been the groups of workers in place 400 years ago.  Anyway, if you’re interested in learning more, just click on the link & you can read about it.  

I spend the rest of Saturday wandering the streets and then had made a reservation earlier to have dinner at a steakhouse (I’ve had little protein “by my standards” on this trip).  Turns out I made the reservation for the restaurant next door in error.  So I end up with a nice eggplant dish for primi and some pistachio crusted tuna for secondo.  All fine – but I really had my heart set on steak.  (**If you’re asking why I just didn’t go next door, well, I had already gotten my wine & water & eaten some bread before I read the menu & was shocked to find no meat . . didn’t want to be a rude American!)

On Easter Sunday, Paolo has arranged for me to go on this boat trip to the islands off the coast.  He must get a cut from these guys, because he really wanted me to go.  My Dad was most concerned that I’d be spending Pasqua alone, so I figured this would be a way to spend some time with other tourists who didn’t have Mama’s house to go to.  Turns out it was mostly Italians that either are not religious and don’t celebrate the holiday OR were on holiday themselves!!  Fun group – see separate post on Easter Sunday.

Monday morning at breakfast, Paolo is thrilled to hear that we all had a good time on the boat trip (some other guests had gone as well).  My new friends, Vincenzo & Shelia, are leaving so I need to find something else to do.  **Just so you know, even though the holiday was yesterday, Trapani continues with their celebration on Monday – they call it Pasquino (Little Pasqua) and everyone has the day off from work & everything (but some restaurants & food shops) are closed.  I decide that this is the day to hit Erice, a town way up on the mountain that Mom remembers fondly.  My draw was Maria’s Pasticceria which according to the guide books is the best bakery in Sicily.  Paolo calls the funivia station to be sure they’re open – they are – and we talk about my taking the bus to get to the station. (See separate post on Erice)

When I return from Erice, I really just want yogurt & water for dinner so I drag myself out to a little mercato to find some.  On the way back, I remember a little natural food place that I got a smoothie from a couple of days ago and recall they have salads.  Thinking I’m in desperate need of some real veggies, I go in.  Turns out the place is run by a French family who knows & appreciates real food.  The salad turns out to be delicious and just what I need after days of weird meals on land & sea!

Tuesday morning is driving day – AGAIN!  I pack up my things – and Paolo packs me up some sandwiches for the drive (I’d fallen in love with these breakfast sandwiches that he & his mom make.  They are on this really good bread with sesame seeds and have olive oil, fresh tomatoes, parmesan cheese and my favorite Castelvetrano olives – YUM!).  Paolo, bless his heart, carries all my bags down the stairs and I retrieve what is now a VERY DIRTY CAR and meet him at the entrance to the B&B. 

I drive out of town using that silly GPS which takes me on the worst route winding through a bunch of very narrow streets.  I’m mad at myself for not just trusting my good sense of direction.  I’ve been walking these streets for 5 days and I know them well – I could have maneuvered downtown without the GPS. 

I leave not feeling any more religious than when I came, but definitely in awe of the traditions of Venerdi Santo & Pasqua that this city has shown me.  Impressive, indeed!   I’m so glad this is where I chose to spend my Easter in Sicily.  Unforgettable, indeed!

April 6

By the way – the cover picture on this post is a selfie taken after about an hour & a half of driving the most insane country back roads . . see below for details!

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Poor Piazza Armerina!  I keep forgetting to put up this post – but alas, I’ve finally remembered and I “think” I have some decent internet speed today!!

So, the day I left cooking school, I needed to spend some time seeing sights as I couldn’t check into my B&B in Sciacca until late afternoon.  I had read about Piazza Armerina and every book said it was on the “must see” list.  It took me a 3 hour drive to find it (really, as always, it should have been less but the GPS routed me onto these VERY REMOTE BACK ROADS)!  The views were spectacular and I climbed up & down hills for a while.  I stopped and took some beautiful landscape shots, but truly, I could have stopped every two minutes and took pictures – yes, it WAS THAT beautiful.

I wind way up to the top of this town (can’t remember the name) and it’s lovely.  Quaint & cute & quiet!  It’s market day and I really want to stop – but I really don’t need food or gas or a bathroom break, so I just move slowly though the town & continue to follow the GPS’s directions.  Well, that damn GPS is BAD AGAIN!  Next thing I know, I’m on this dirt road (not really all dirt, but so much of it was damaged & washed away, that you had to drive on dirt AND through & over so many HUGE holes that I wondered if I’d make it at all).  Then – I have to stop to let a herd of sheep pass.  Then I have to drive on the wrong side of the road, because my half of the road has fallen off the cliff.  Then I have to wait for an on-coming car to pass, because again, my side of the road is gone.  This goes on & on for over an hour.  I’m wondering if I’m going to ever come to a “real” road again and then it happens – I hit the high rent district!!

I come around the bend and it’s like I’ve been transported!  There are all these beautiful villas with great gardens & olive groves and I understand why the road has gotten SO MUCH BETTER – it’s because these rich people pay more taxes – right?!?!  As I wind past these estates and up a hill, I see the next high rent area – it’s the town of Santa Caterina and it is one of the best I’ve seen in Sicily.  This little place I’ve never heard of is gorgeous.  Street after street – it’s just beautiful.  Note to self – maybe a place to visit for serenity in the future!

I continue on and make my way to Enna.  Even though Mom has told me how much she & Dad loved Enna, I really just want to get to Piazza Armerina – so I plow through.  When I arrive in Piazza Armerina, I’m shocked to find it’s actually a town.  I had been under the impression it was a villa or a castle and I can’t for the life of me understand why the GPS has brought me to this dumpy parking lot somewhere outside the city center.  I turn the expensive wireless data on, on my phone (I’ve been saving it for emergencies like this – for sure) and bring up my friend, Google!  I find out that there’s actually this villa called The Roman Villa Del Casale and it’s about 5 miles out of town.  I bring it up on Google Maps – using my phone’s expensive & limited data access – and follow it.  I’m way past trusting that GPS again!

I arrive, park & pay 1 Euro to use the bathroom.  I buy a ticket, pick up an audio guide and make my way past two huge groups of German tourists that have just exited their tour bus.  Don’t want to get caught behind these guys!!

Suffice to say, this place is pretty amazing and far surpasses what I would call a villa.  A fortress, a town, I don’t know – but something very big!  The place actually has an entire “cathedral” inside of it and I heard on the audio feed that the town’s people could come here for worship and religious celebrations. 

The place was built sometime between 250 & 350 AD.  The owner is unknown.  Time & neglect have left it in pretty bad shape, but what’s survived are these MAGNIFICENT FLOORS – all made them entirely of little tiny tiles.  They are works of art themselves . . I can only imagine what the walls & ceilings of this place may have looked like in its glory.  UNESCO named it a world heritage site in 1997 and restoration began in 2007.  A lot of that restoration in the form of trusses & ceilings, I’m sure in an attempt to protect what is left of the original house & to preserve those amazing floors.

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.  They were amazing to view in person and as I walked around the raised pathway to view the rooms, I couldn’t believe the time & craftsmanship that must have gone  into these amazing works of art.

Enjoy!