A Weekend in the Sicilian Sun

SICILY-Palermo
A charming Italian city with a flare for the Middle East.

As an ominous group of five bubbly blondes and a brunette, we flew into Tripani, Sicily late on a Friday night; half an hour late after a windy and turbulent flight that may or may not have left the airplanes landing gear scattered down the runway, such was the landing. We jumped on a pre-booked bus headed for Palermo, a two-hour ride late into the night providing much needed time to rest. That was not to be the case, thanks to the dozen or so drunk and singing Swedish guys occupying the back of the bus. When we got off the bus hours later, we spent a significant amount of time wandering lost and endlessly through the dirty streets of Palermo, arriving at our Hostel only to find the Singing Swedes sleeping in the next room.

Thanks to the size of our group- two Finnish girls, two French girls, a Swedish girl and myself- the weekend was fraught with directional disagreements. Despite the rough start and many small squabbles, the Sicilian countryside more than made up for the minor annoyances typical of group travel. We woke up early Saturday morning to find breakfast and do a bit of exploring. We had heard there were local markets nearby- always my favorite part of any travel. You quickly get a sense of the local fare and flare- this particular market must have been a mile long, tucked away in small alleyways and hovels. There was a mix of fresh fruits and veggies piled high, as well as knock off bags and sunglasses to satisfy any budget shopaholic. At one point we came across several poor little lambs, hanging in various states of butchery. One poor animal hung upside down with his throat cut mid bleat, eyes glazed with tangy metallic blood matted in his soft white hair. On the table next to him, a burly Sicilian butcher with callused, dirt encrusted hands carved up the meaty flesh of another fat lamb, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he worked. I only give you such details so you understand my horror at stumbling across such a scene, somewhere between browsing scarves and munching on delicious bits of fruit.



For me, the most repulsive part of the market is always the fish section. The pungent smell of dead fishy bodies roasting in the shady heat is just too much for me! One table had giant tuna bodies on display, the gaping heads arranged to give children nightmares, I’m sure of it. I watched in horrible fascination as one merchants cleaver came down and cleanly beheaded a flopping fish, providing dinner for a middle aged Italian woman juggling her fresh kill with a baby carriage in the bustling mess of the small alley. We spent the whole first half of the day wandering through these markets, idling over little sparkling trinkets, and buying small amounts of produce to nibble on.


At last we came to the end of the market, having no idea where we were after the maze of shops and stands. Luckily we had picked up a map at the hostel that morning, so we headed in the direction of the coast, stopping at interesting spots as we came across them. At the water line, there was a long park following the curve of a rocky beach. We walked along the path with ocean on one side and a park full of smiling kids and couples on the other. Huge jutting cliffs surrounded the whole city of Palermo, visible in the distance, and giving it the charm of a hidden port city protected by gorgeous dynamic blue mountains. This was my favorite part of Palermo, and what makes Sicily unique. When you look into the distance from the lowlands, you see endless greenery occasionally broken by a charming and ancient looking building.. behind which are the most amazing mountains one could imagine. Startlingly steep, they are equally foreboding and beautifully appealing. Looking at such a scene gives one the feeling of looking at a beautiful and mysterious painting. This is when I feel like I have discovered the true value of travel, to have the good fortune of stepping into a painting or book. We spent the afternoon wandering around in the sun, we were lucky enough to have gorgeous weather the entire weekend.

Dinner that night was at a lovely restaurant down the street from our hostel. It was quiet and classy, Italian with a Moroccan undertone. The lighting was by candle and low lamps, and our table was in an outer courtyard surrounded by stone walls covered with climbing ivory. We had a bit of difficulty reading the Italian menu, and the owner immediately came out to assist with translations! As I have discovered in many other trips, Italian generosity runs quite deep. In fact, we were not even required to pay the full bill, it was rounded down by a few euro! The dishes were quite good, with several complementary appetizers of varying palatability and distinctive middle eastern spice. The main course for most of us was of course pizza, a seemingly pedestrian choice for such a nice place, if you were anywhere but Italy! The house wine was lively and fruity, and overall it was an awesome dinner. Later that night we ventured out to the club street, one long narrow road crammed with bars and music. We dubbed it “Palermoville” after Malta’s Paceville- Malta’s premiere club spot. Being the only blondes, we attracted a noticeable amount of attention, though it wasn’t so bothersome as to hinder our boisterous mood. We each ordered a different fruity cocktail, taking them outside to a bench for better people watching. At one point some old guy meandered past dropping mint leaves into our bowl of peanuts. When he subsequently offered us 500 euro bills, we decided to call it a night!

The following day we were off to find the catacombs. On our way, an elderly gentleman on a bike rode up alongside us, pausing to give us directions to the catacombs without any one of us telling him where we were going! This may give you some indication as to how few tourist sites there were, and how obviously we were spotted as tourists. I don’t know what I was expecting from the catacombs, but it certainly wasn’t the labyrinth of corpses hung on display! There must have been thousands of bodies in varying stages of decay, some nothing but bone, others with remnants of skin, hair, and eyeballs. They weren’t particularly preserved, many of them were within touching distance, though I can’t see why anyone would want to. They all had their original clothing, now in tatters and covered in layers of dust, and some had photographs of when they were alive. I am never one to shy at gore, but this was creepy and disturbing. There were bodies of monks from as early as 1599, as well as women, young children, and even babies. Perhaps the most unnerving is the room reserved for kids who looked to be about 12, hung from the wall in their school clothes.

After emerging from the damp darkness of the catacombs, I couldn’t have been happier to breathe the fresh air. Our next stop was a lovely old cathedral with mosaic ceilings, and as it was Sunday morning, filled with the local populace. We wandered around Palermo, meandering through gardens and stumbling upon fountains and parks. I have yet to mention the significant amount of shopping we did, almost every spare moment! And the gelato.. to die for! Only as Italy can create. We ate toasted cheese sandwiches in sunny little cafés while watching people mill about, and each morning enjoyed steaming coffee and pastries at bustling little bakeries.

My favorite part of the weekend is probably the bus ride between Palermo to Tripani, where we were to catch our flight back to Malta. It was the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen, rolling hills dotted with quaint little houses and farms. At one point I looked out the window to see a long sloping ridge of emerald green, with a row of windmills spinning lazily in the breeze. It was so fresh and beautiful, as if out of a storybook. It is hard to believe sometimes how lucky we are to live in such an unequivocally beautiful world. :)