ah, sicily!
i love this place. nobody speaks english; they do speak in sign language, though. it appears they park by braille. they drive that way, too.
i feel fairly safe crossing the road, though, as it seems the rule here is to step out directly in front of oncoming traffic with no regard for personal safety. the traffic will stop, or at least slow down to a pace meant to injure, not kill. then they honk at you or, if you’re una bella ragaza, whistle.
so far, i haven’t been whistled at, which is a good sign.
after recovering from the airport crawl, and hungering for food not served covered in plastic, eaten with plastic utensils, and tasting like it was made of plastic, i ate a fantastic dinner and watched scenes from the sopranos acted out by the locals in a hole-in-the-wall trattoria. i didn’t understand a word of it, but they were having quite an energetic conversation, and it was hard not to enjoy the entertainment. lasagna, a pork chop, salad with lots of olive oil, and lots of red wine later, i wandered out into the rain-slick streets again in search of gelato.
i keep seeing posters and billboards advertising land for sale, land and property seized from the cosa nostra. i think a nice little mafioso’s villa outside of town would make a nice place to retire (and start my criminal empire)