People often ask me if I like Rome. I usually give a vague reply along the lines of, "I love the shopping," or, "It is a beautiful city." If I am in a lousy mood, I will complain about the drivers, the litter and the non-stop cigarette smoke.
But I love Sicily, even with the clouds of cigarette smoke drifting over the beach.
(Side Note: Italians smoke. Alot. Why else would an American health care company - hubby's - be investing in hospitals in Europe? Because they are all to dumb/stubborn/whatever to go without smoking for a minute and it is costing their own government-run health systems a fortune. As someone who is allergic to cigarettes and HAS NO AIR CONDITIONING, this is my problem, too, as AC = open a window. Whenever someone wants to gaze and my lovely garden, they invariably light up, then flick their cigarette butts into my yard. The real PIGS in Europe are not Portugal, Italy, Greece and Spain; rather, they are the selfish people who insist on forcing their own personal bad habit on their neighbors and countrymen. Really, even at the Susan G. Komen marathon, runners were stopping to light up, then continue the race...but I digress)
However, I really like Sicily. It is the best parts of Europe combined with my fondly remembered agrarian childhood. No, Richland Center, Wisconsin does not have 13th century cathedrals or the landscape that fostered two ancient civilizations. But it did have arching trees, beautiful hills and sunsets that amazed me each night. I can hear birds in the morning and cicadas in the afternoon. I can watch the path of the sun arc over the sky, followed by the moon and a field of stars that make streetlights unnecessary.
Sicily is like that. I wake up in the morning and sit on a terrace overlooking the sea, waiting to watch the last of the mist drift away and the light change in a moment. For the rest of the day, the water pulls every bit of color from the sky, making the sea bluer and bleaching everything but the sun. The breezes smell like olive trees and eucalyptus; small birds and butterflies dart over the fields; rolling fields compete with groves of citrus and olives and grapes until they run into the side of a mountain or meet the sea.
And while cigarette puffing Italians are everywhere in public, on our private cliff overlooking the sea I have peace and quiet.
Most days so far have been spent at the beach. All of us, except Billy, are very tan. Today is actually the first time I have connected to the internet - no phone, tv, fax or computer for two solid weeks. Very refreshing!
We braved Cefalu traffic and crowds to go into town last night for the end of Ferroaugusto, the local version of a midsummer celebration. Mostly it was teenagers camping on the beaches and having drinks and bonfires, but it was also a good excuse to window shop and go out for dinner.
I love Italian food. What these people can do to swordfish amazes me. Billy had his swordfish wrapped around grilled eggplant and ricotta cheese. Mine was served in a tomato/olive/caper sauce.
Tomorrow we head into Palermo to hit the August shopping. More photos and fun things to follow...
