Done and done … for now …

Our plane to Munich is filling up with sleepy travelers; the attendant is making announcements, sounding a bit like a parody of every German spy movie ever made. “Mr. Sanchez.  You vill come to zee front, pleez!” It is a German crew, following our Spanish crew from yesterdays layover in Barcelona. Despite strike warnings of disgruntled Catalonians, we had no problems… Good for us! Evan Schmidt is ready to go, and his diction is perfect, although the plane is 5 minutes late waiting for one passenger who didn’t show up. Despite being all Mediterranean types, Spaniards do look different than Italians, who themselves have won a genetic mix depending on what part of Italy they, or their ancestors, came from. Our host, a true Sicilian, was blond and blue-eyed, a gift of his Norman progenitors.

 A few last thoughts about being here, and about Italy. I started this trip wondering how Sicily would be experienced. I came away thinking that, personally, I expected suspicious, unwelcoming-to-outsiders people. We were welcomed, fed, dined, smiled at, and made welcome at every turn. So often we were asked our opinion of Sicily- did we like? Yes, we did.

We found fabulous food – Arab, Greek, Italian, full of the flavors of locally available produce. A tender love of vegetables focused on eggplant, lemons, olives, zucchini, onion, and the ubiquitous  tomato. Sauces were light and full of olive oils. Fish predominates, as you would expect.

People l saw were careful in dress, more formal than Americans, with few ripped jeans, or purple hairs. Large purses are in, and so are frilly tulle dresses on women, though mostly on Asian girls. Shirts on men, even dress shirts are usually worn outside, often with an extra touch of fancy something – buttons, or cuffs, or scarf. They could often tell we were American just by how we looked, or walked, switching gears to address us mid sentence in English.

Curiosity abounds — people stare openly, and will meet your eyes in any possible conversation, or across a crowded room. I could carry on with several people with no verbal communication, reaching understanding without the need for dialogue. 

Dogs – my how people get their dogs on! Without a hint of grass, or a tree, in the city, people walk both big and miniature  puppies, and never look back at their spoil as they leave their poo wherever they happen to be. It seems like an odd life, always on a leash, never to run. Just like at home, an ambulance sounding in the night brings out the howls of the neighborhood.

Most  towns are gritty, and none more than Acireale, and Catania. Gritty and also bursting at their seams with life and energy. People live full lives here, and we could see that a they are protective of their neighborhood, and towns,often spending all their days in the same places, with the same families. 

The negatives are the trash and driving. I’ve harped on those two a lot. Most cars have damage on the passenger side and rear fenders. Scratches and gouges running horizontally, in exactly the same place on what I think is 80% of all vehicles, of every size.

Trash accumulates, and tagging — that common artistic(?)  need to paint on walls, caves and tunnels of properties everywhere, isn’t painted over, so many surfaces, although not churches, have been spray-painted.  Although there is a considerable effort to recycle, and their plastic bags are  compostable (even the grocery bags) there is a lot of blowing paper, and an accumulation of old bagged refuse, with no one making an effort to clean it up that I could see.

I didn’t see any sort of traffic police, although we often saw cars with police in them, uniformed in any of many branches of quasi-military in them. Guards filled the streets at the church celebration in Acireale when we had our gelati. They, the military types, fully armed, and in fatigues, drove through large squares every little bit in large range rovers. Security? I don’t know if they ever got out, or were just on duty all the time guarding against  the unknown.

Natural beauty was given freely here, and is, like most unearned but abundant gifts, unappreciated as well as under- maintained. We appreciated spectacular scenery, landscape and the fertile land. Artistic appreciation is real however, and expressed passionately through the frescoes and tile decorating homes and  churches, and as frequent sculptures. Many old palaces are filled with the treasures of history, but there is little official support for their upkeep or for their preservation. Roman ruins in so many places are there without so much as good signage, buried in the subterranean soil beneath a street or two. One could spend weeks in nearly any city, and uncover little known historic bliss. Money here seems to disappear, we’ve been told several times. Where does it go? “Ahhh- they said, like you Americans, we have Our politicians…” then they shake their heads and turn down their lips.

Maybe it’s just human nature, and we are one. I do keep thinking that they need families in their abandoned towns, and everywhere people desperately need homes. If some of our funding efforts could be usefully re-purposed instead of being deliberately divisive, we could put the two needs together and save both towns and people. But- that’s my big idea, no doubt.

It’s really hard to say goodbye to our cousins – the wonderful, wanderful, tolerant Elaine and Giovanni (John) Lavezzi(s), our traveling companions in so many adventures. One could not ask for more, or enjoy two people so much. We love them.

We’ve had such luxury – the luxury of time, and although our travel style is 3 stars, not 5, we have everything we need, and are given so much to have been here to wander the back-side of Italy. We haven’t finished with our travels, and perhaps we’ll get to come back. But for now, we are flying over the alps, and that too, is a wonder beyond knowing. Tired, but full, I thank you, and Lew for helping me to get this off  – it’s a wonderful way for me to see my own trip. Lew says – “it is all good…”