Sicilia. Mamma Mia. I swear, every time I go somewhere new, it becomes my new faovrite place. But Dio mio, this weekend in Sicilia (see-che-lee-uh) was something else. To give a brief overview of this weekend's events, we flew into Palermo, rented a car and drove across the island to Catania, took a tour of Europe's largest active volcano, Mt. Etna, went to a wine tasting on a vineyard overlooking the mountains, drove to Agrigento to see the Greek temple ruins, drove to San Barigio and spent the day in Old Country with my friend Chris's long lost Sicilian family, drove back to Palermo and toured the city, stopping by at the most breathtakingly beautiful beach I've ever seen. And that's just the OVERVIEW.
Sicilia was kind of a throw away trip for me. My friends wanted to go so I tagged along, but it was never on my list of places to go. That was before I saw this place. Good GOD. Sicilia è BELLISIMA! Looking at the terrain, you can tell the place was just absolutely rocked by an earthquake. Imagine taking 2 pieces of paper laying flat on a table and pushing them together so the edges meet just perfectly and rise together like a mountain. Paint it green, multiple it by 300, and stick it in middle of a clear blue ocean and you've got Sicily. It was like Ireland with its rolling green hills and farms and cliffs, Hilton Head or Florida with its gardens and palm trees around the beaches, the Caribbean with its clear blue Mediterranean water, and in spots like Nantucket with its thick brush near the water. Wow.
I didn't understand what people meant when they said that going to Sicily is a culture experience until I arrived. Just a few examples: they speak their own language. I thought in the south, they just cut off half the word (for instance, the famous expression “capish” for understand? Is actually “capisci” (sounds like cuh-pee-sh-ee) in staandard Italian) and that's what made up their dilect, but it's literally a different language. My friends told me that this was because up until 200 years ago, there was no standard Italian so every region had its own dialect, and Sicily just never adopted standardized Italian. The culture is also very different in that it's what we think of when we think stereotypical Italy: traditional food cooked by plump grandmas (Nonna) with a heavy emphasis on a close family which is very animated and colorful to say the least. The people are extremely warm and will walk you to your destination if you ask for directions. The food is 100% homemade and far less expensive, and the pride of the people is beautiful.
Friday morning:
We woke up at 3:45 AM, met at 4:15 AM and walked about a mile with our luggage to the train to the airport at 5:30 AM to catch our 7:15 AM flight. Arrived in Palermo around 9:30, picked up a the car, drove around the city exploring, and commenced the “Tour de Sicilian food: 2011” at a restaurant that seemed like a hole in the wall but ended up being an awesome experience. A pleasently plump Nonna completely catered to us, coming around the counter, gently putting her hands on our backs, explaining all of the homemade dishes in the display case one-by-one
with the utmost pride. To express deliciousness if you will, Sicilian take their index finger and put it where a dimple on your cheek would be, rotating their wrist back and forth; this motion occurred after every dish's description, and she wasn't lying. We all ended up ordering the most incredible lasagna that I think exists. In true Sicilian style, she served us HUGE portions the size of the entire plate.... for 3€. After staying and joking around with Nonna for a bit, we drove around the city (//sat in traffic – another Palermo trademark) until we found a small park with flowers and palm trees overlooking the water where we sat, relaxed, took photos, and soaked in the beautiful scenery with a park behind us, clear blue water in front of us, and huge mountains on either side of us.
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| The view of Mt. Etna from our Balcony |
Later that afternoon we drove through the (spectacular) countryside to Catania and checked into our B&B which had authentic Italians, 20ft ceilings, a balcony with a view of Mt. Etna, and a complementary breakfast. Add that with individual beds, a private bathroom, and the fact that they let you leave your luggage with them during the day so you can travel, even though you're not staying with them that night, all for 20€ a night each (about the same price as a hostel), and you'll understand why I prefer B&B's over hostels any day. Catania is a relatively small city made beautiful by parks with benches, palm trees, statues, fountains, and amazing mountain views.
Becca's Italian professor is from Catania and gave us the information for an awesome tour of Mt Etna – Europe's largest active volcano. A burley mountain man (whose name none of us seemed to catch, so we'll refer to him as TG for Tour Guide) picked us up at our hotel at 9:00 AM in his Land Rover (which looks very strange in Europe because every other car on the road looks like a Matchbox car) and took us to all of the important points of Mt. Etna.
We started on the rocky coast that looked out onto what seemed to be individual cliffs plopped in middle of the ocean (talk about a cliff hanger – OOOOHHHH) with the mountains to our backs. TG explained that Catania used to be flat until a huge earthquake came and formed the hills surrounding us, the seemingly random repelling mountains in middle of the ocean, and (of course) Mt. Etna. We drove up Etna's winding roads and reached an area of lava rocks left behind from the eruption of 1979. (I asked when the most recent eruption was, expecting TG to say “500 years ago.” Instead, he replied with “last week.” They have satellites tracking the volcano every day, but talk about a difference in everyday concerns...) This area was just one small finger of where the lava reached on this side of the mountain. The scene was amazing because you could see exactly where the lava went because there were raised areas of gray rocks (that all weight close to nothing) almost sitting on top of land that used to be used for farming. We continued further up the mountain and went on an aggressive off-roading trek to see a huge valley.... (I feel like I should give an explanation of why this valley was significant to the tour, but to be completely honest, I was too busy taking pictures of the amazing view to hear the explanation behind why we were there.) We went on a short hike up a peak to look out onto a massive valley where clouds were floating so low to the ground that they were intermingling with the trees and we were standing above them. On the drive back to the main road, we were bouncing around so much that we were clinging on to anything we could just to keep from falling all over each other (Tommy, Chris and I in particular because we were sitting on benches in the trunk), when TG, talking about how this terrain was like an advertisement for his car, made a hilarious comment in his Italian accent: “
This tour brought to you by Land Rover.”
We continued up the mountain further and hiked around one of the (300) craters of Etna from which you could see steam rising. It was an interesting site to see, what with a snow-covered mountain emitting white smoke next to a smaller mountain made up by volcanic soot and rocks, from black to gray to red, depending on how high up you were. As we were climbing half a mile almost vertically up to the peak of this thing, the weather went from sunny to rain to hail to snow within the same 45 minutes or so. After getting pelted by Mother Nature, TG brought us to our lunch destination. Little did I know that lunch was going to be more of a wine tasting on a vineyard overlooking the mountains. Goodness gracious, talk about an amazing authentic Italian experience. We had a traditional family-style Italian meal with big antipasto plates that were passed around as we tried the different wines from the vineyard. The wine in Catania is unique because the deposits from the lava make the soil rich and fertile, excellent for growing grapes. Two hours and 5 bottle of wine later, the 5 of us found ourselves good friends with TG and the other Italian couple on our tour, as well as the large group of Americans sitting at the table next to us who turned out to be in the Military together (all different branches though) who decided to vacation in Sicily. They were pretty well-hydrated with wine and were some funny characters. They kept telling us that what we were doing – studying abroad and traveling – was an amazing thing, but never to forget where we came from. He put his arm around my friend Yelei (aka Matt – something I'll explain another time) and said, “Remember that you're from the greatest place on the face of the earth” to which we all started cracking up at, as Yelei then looked up at him and said, “I'm from China...” The man replied, “Doesn't matter. You've been there. It's a destination point.” (I don't even know what that's supposed to mean!) Hilarious.
After lunch, we stopped at another beautiful view for photos, and TG had a hard time getting us back in the car for the rest of the day because we were so excited to take photos. (Five bottles of wine will do that to you.) I was the first to climb into the car and in Italian, said to TG and the other couple (Valentina and her husband whose name I don't remember), “Scusa... siamo come bambini...” (Sorry, we're like children...) to which they laughed. We also went to an AMAZING river formed by the volcano (or earthquake? I don't remember... evidently I didn't learn as much as I thought I did) which was next to a Byzantine church from 900 AD. So so SO cool.
A 9-hour tour of every terrain you could possible think of, seeing an active volcano in the flesh, a wine tasting lunch on a vineyard, getting picked up and dropped off at our hotels, and having hiking boots and coats provided: The best 49€ spent yet.
After the tour we drove to Agrigento for the night so that we could go to the temple ruins the next morning. I've noticed that in Italy – but Sicily in particular – there is a mindset that I've come to define as “The individual over the institution.” For example, driving laws are really more driving suggestions than anything, as made evident by the standard of parking, disregard for traffic lights, stop signs, and speed limits, the liberal use of the horn, and Sicily's lack of road lines to indicate driving lanes, making some parts of the freeways free-for-alls. This was also demonstrated when our hotel in Agrigento called us saying that we were too late for check-in because the reception desk closes at 8:00 PM and they wanted to go home, so we ended up having to stay at another hotel. (But seriously... what kind of hotel closes at 8:00 PM?!) We went the next morning to speak with them about it, and they gave us a card saying that we could stay another night with them for free because we had already paid for the room. Typical Sicily: Do things on their own terms, but are super warm and hospitable.
Seeing the ruins and the panoramic views of the countryside meeting the sea on a BEAUTIFUL sunny, warm, breezy day was well worth the inconvenience, made even better by the fact that admission was 1€. We took tons and tons of photos to try and capture the scene but none do the setting justice. (Very funny though, I got scolded for hopping over a rock wall to try and get an awesome photo. Me – the one who always follows the rules and is always like the mom of the group keeping everyone in line. A large man came up to us saying in Italian,
I got a call telling me that someone hopped the fence. You can't do that! And I apologized profusely, telling him I understood, that it won't happen again, that we're leaving soon, but he just kept scolding me as if he was really trying to earn his 80€ an hour wage because this was probably the first thing he'd done all day. So funny.)
From Agrigento we drove to San Barigio, the town where Chris's dad was born. The town is the epitome of the picture that comes to mind when you think of the Old Country and Italian roots, and the drive around the winding roads that wrap themselves around mountains above green valleys was
phenomenal – I couldn't take my eyes off it. San Barigio is a village perched on top of a mountain, much like many of the villages in the countryside. What we thought was going to be a quick tour and bite to eat turned into a 9 hour family reunion in 2 different towns. (I don't actually know how any of them are related – nor do they I think – so I'm just going to label them [cousin, aunt, grandma] the way I think a more immediate family would look.) Everything about the experience was stereotypical. So many things happened, but I'll do my best to recount the highlights.
They stuffed us full of food. I mean STUFFED us to the point where I went home and threw up. For LUNCH, I had (//was peer pressured/force-fed) grilled artichoke, salad, a HUGE bowl of pasta piccante, 2 sausages, a steak, bread with real olive oil, 2 glasses of homemade wine, 2 cream puff pastries, 2 canolies, 2 donut hole-like things, and a coffee. Before I could even put my fork down after taking the last bite of one dish, the empty plate was pulled away from me and a new plate full of food replaced it. At one point, they told us to stop talking because it was getting in the way of our eating. “You may not leave until you eat everything.” Not even a joke. I made the mistake of saying I was full, to which they responded: “Stand up. Walk around the table. Sit back down. Eat.” If we stood up to clear our plate, they scolded us, point at us firmly, then pointing back at our chair firmly as if to say, Sit your butt back down and one of the women would scurry over to clear our plates.
The interactions themselves were hilarious as well. Somewhere down the road they decided that I was the one they were going to play pranks on (perhaps it was when they found out I was Irish) and his aunt came up to me pretended to spill coffee all over me, only to reveal that the glass was empty, but the entire family was rolling on the floor laughing at my facial reaction. The homemade cannoli had nuts in them so after hearing I was allergic, his great aunt just whipped up some more of them so I could eat them. His uncle works for the Italian FBI and his a HUGE man with few words and a commanding presence. His great uncle feeds his cats pasta with red sauce and fish and chicken. His “cousins”
told us we were coming over for dinner to their house outside Palermo (notice I how I didn't say they invited us- there was no option given which was fine by us) and his 18-year old cousin Vincenzo said he'd drive with us. He asked us who was driving, and Chris responded that either he (Chris) or I would be driving, and Vincenzo looked at me in horror saying,
No. Women don't drive. He continued to give a ridiculously sexist explanation about how women are horrible drivers and basically said that I would probably kill everyone if I dared get behind the wheel, and informed us,
If Chris drives, I come with you. If she drives, I go with my parents. (Stereotype.) Once at their house, we ate AGAIN, this time pizza and sandwiches in front of the TV watching the soccer game. (Stereotype.) There was a couple around 30 years old there that were family friends, and while the husband was watching the game, the wife without a word cut up all of his food for him. Later she peeled his tangerine. (Stereotype.) The women prepared dinner and cleaned up. (Stereotype.) The thing is, none of this was done in a degrading way; I was not offended by any of it, and neither were the women – it's just how they function. What a difference in cultures, ehy? They were joking about how the boys – who both have ridiculously Italian names - could hardly speak Italian while the girl with the Irish last name they couldn't even pronounce could speak better than them. They told me that next time I come to Sicily, I stay with them – not in a hotel. I tried explaining that I'd love to return to Sicily, but I don't think I'd be able to because I my weekends are pretty booked. Their confused facial expressions indicated that they didn't understand this... What? Other travel plans? Why wouldn't I return to Sicily? Of course I was coming back! And I would be staying with them! I eventually surrendered, telling them, “I want to come back! I'll try to come back before I leave!” And their faces slid back into jolly smiles as they clapped their hands and said, “Eeehhhhyyyy!”
When they finally (and hesitantly) allowed us to say goodbye (aka, relinquished us after a few hours of saying,
we really need to leave now), we drove into Palermo to find our B&B – another awesome, folksy hotel with balconies, nice rooms, and complementary breakfast in bed... not a bad deal. Monday was spent wandering relatively aimlessly around the city, seeing the sites, eating some authentic food, and spending some time hanging out at the most INCREDIBLE beach I've ever seen. We had clear blue water in front of us and mountains with villages (and even a castle) stuck into the side of them on either side of us. Unbelievable.
All in all: Sicily is DEFINITELY not a throw-away trip. If you can dedicate a few relaxing days there with a relatively loose schedule, rent a car, call up some long-lost family, and drive around to see the BEAUTIFUL scenes and experience the super warm culture and weather.
Next weekend: Paris. Stay tuned.
We stayed at place called Love and Peace Hostel which was quite an interesting/fun place. Only people between the ages of 18 and 35 can stay there, so it's chalk-full of young people. This was made evident when we showed up to see neon lights displaying the name, and the hostel actually just looked like a bar. There were flashing lights coming from the ceiling and the actual bar itself; there was music pumping; the bar was set up so that all of the hard liquor bottles were turned upside down and put into taps above the bar tender, so to mix drinks, he had to put the glass slightly above eye-level and push the tap like it was a soda fountain. It was quite the energetic enviornment. We kept pacing back and forth in front of the bar trying to find where the entrance to the hostel was, and it wasn't until the British 20-something bartender yelled out to us to come in and informed us that the tiny door that looked like a closet was really a narrow staircase winding up to the rooms which were sitting right above the bar. So fun! After dropping our stuff off and making small talk with our 26-year old roommate from California who was backpacking through Europe for a month, Robb and I wandered around the canals which you could see from our window. We eventually found this awesome little bar where we bought a bottle of wine and my favorite thing of all time: crème brulee! Ordering it was quite the hassle as Robb and I realized that the only things we knew how to say were, “bonjour!” and “baguette!” (Just kidding- we could say “thank you” too. Well... sort of.) I thought that since it boarders Italy, the French would have SOME Italian, but boy was I proven wrong. Some people had a bit of English, but the weekend included a lot of awkward gestures and pointing accompanied by snobby stares from the French. 
We really went to Paris without any sort of agenda so for the first day we just wandered around. We walked to the Notre Dame from our hostel and picked up a bus tour of the city which was convenient because it was like a sure way to make sure we saw everything. The commentary was HILARIOUS - one of the things this lady said was literally: “This bridge is a sight to be seen; to walk, hold hands, and to dream.” But we got to drive by all of the major places in Paris and hear about the history. I was joking that we should have started a tally to see how many times the commentator mentioned Napoleon the First and how amazing he was – they love them some Napoleon over there. 
After the Louvre, we walked to the Eiffel Tower (which is kind of a hike) and decided to CLIMB the tower rather than take the elevator. This was a good decision because we would stop whenever we wanted and take pictures of the awesome views. Plus, now I can say that I CLIMBED the Eiffel Tower! Very cool. Unfortunately, it started raining just as we reached the last summit for the stairs, the layer below the top of the tower. We were waiting out the rain and while Robb and Ryan were in line for something, I decided to go outside and sit on a bench under the roof. Apparently I was feeling particularly outgoing that day, because I started talking to the kid sitting next to me who turned out to be a 19-year old from Toronto who took a year off between high school and college to travel. He started in the Middle East for his Jewish pilgrimage and was spending four and a half months backpacking by himself throughout... well... EVERYWHERE. He was a really nice kid with some great stories, so I invited him along with us as well. The 4 of us ended up being a great group and we had a really fun time together at the top of the tower, getting lost around the city, and going out to eat dinner. Despite the rain, it was an awesome day in my book. 
