Again, to Genova

27/2/11

On a big jet plane (and by “jet plane” I mean “traghett” – compliments to Raimondo for that little jewel – aka “ferry”), somewhere between Palermo and Genova

Still kicking myself for not getting four of these

Allow me to start by saying I do not know when I will be able to post this. I am about to embark on a very different type of journey that will leave little time for searching for the internet. If I find it, yahoo!; if not, yaboo. But I have an hour still until the ferry arrives, and there are many things on my mind, having no one here with whom to talk, so I thought I would capture this moment in time by creating a blog post. (Now allow me to thank the heavens for the relative ease of internet access in the north of Italia! Such a fine library, too.)

Today's lesson, boys and f'males, concerns the differences between travel under one's own power and travel with the aid of trains, planes, and traghetti. I find myself in a particular situation at the moment. No, I am not referring to having thrown overboard dozens of schoolchildren and thus being wanted by the international police force known as the French Foreign Legion.

The delicious, nutritious, and ubiquitous pesce spada (swordfish)


Rather, floating here on the Mediterranean with nothing to do but think has forced me to think about the next few days. Essentially, I am heading to Paris to begin the next leg of the journey.

Let me step back a moment. As you probably recall, the first leg of the journey had four legs: two from me, and two from Sean, though we would occasionally pick up some more at the open-air body-part markets found only in Luxembourg Ave., Luxembourg City, Luxembourg (don't ever ask me to speak of this again). Come Christmas, I began the slow but inevitable transition to the second leg of the trip, where I first joined my loving cousins and various beurs in Navan, Co. Meath, Ireland, before returning to life on a bike on my lonesome in Italia.

Cathedral of Monreale; the entire length of the walls and the beams of the ceiling are covered in golden mosaics depicting scenes from the Bible

I had a marvelous time seeing the Italian countryside, sampling its many foods, learning a bit of the language (poco poco, pero posso parlare!), and – of course – reveling in the hospitality and friendliness of Southern Italia. And then came Sicilia, where everything was magnified and I made friends that I know I will see again, both later on the bicycle and afterward in America. But nothing gold can stay, or all good things must end, or entropy is always increasing, and so the second portion ends as the third one begins. On Thursday, in Paris, I will again be fortunate enough to have a partner in crime join me for what should turn out to be a grand tour of Greece.

It is a strange sensation, to say the least, being on my own and trying to enjoy the solitary life, with its unavoidable hardships, while at the same time anxiously awaiting a reunion with Laura, my girlfriend, in Paris.

I am already sad to be leaving these friends; on the right is Roberto, who housed me for three days in Palermo, while in the left corner stands Sabrina, who put up with me and my antics and poor pronunciation of o's for just as long

There were times when I felt more there than here, when my mind was elsewhere as I slept alone in my tent in a campsite that was technically closed for the winter, listening to dogs bark not far enough away and staring at the moonlight spilling onto my sleeping bag. There were times when I lost focus and motivation as the weather turned sour and I desperately wished for some of those Wayne's World do-do-do powers of time warping and/or teleportation. But then I would snap back to the present, pull myself together, and have the time of my life.

Posing with the stigoli man, who is cooking the intestines of pig in a most delicious way; as Roberto said, I will never forget that aroma.

But the third stage is not yet here, and the second has not drawn its last breath. Indeed, the next few days will present an unfamiliar and thus ugly sort of challenge that will not test my physical strength or endurance but rather my mental fortitude and patience. When I disembark in Genova, I will have three days to get to Paris. How exactly that will happen, I do not know, but the fact that it will happen, I have no doubt. Because of the extreme difficulty and relatively high cost of traveling with my bicycle but not by means of my bicycle -- ie by bus, train, or plane -- I am not looking forward to the process of reaching Paris, which runs counter to my preference of the journey over the destination.


Ciao Ciao Sicilia, mia amore x sempre


When the next update will come, I know not; but expect news then from the other side of the boundary.

The Last (Sicilian) Supper

23/2/11 (finished 26/2/11)

Palermo, Sicilia

One last look at Etna, from the West; volcanic rock in the foreground

The last few days have seen me cut through the center of Sicilia, from the towering, snowy heights of Mt. Etna to the gritty and thriving quarters of the port city of Palermo. I have traveled 270 km over the last 3 days and reached altitudes of 1150m before descending to sea level on the second evening. While it was certainly a challenge to navigate the seemingly endless hills and valleys of this fertile island, the experience of achieving a zen-like state on my lonesome is an overpowering reward. Besides, I am now here in the company of some great friends, whom I will be sad to leave later tonight.

Again, as I look back on the previous webbed log communication, I berate myself for not updating with more frequency. I mean, there are so many awesome things that have happened since the last post that it is unfortunate that I will not be sharing it with you.

First of all, internet availability here is sparse at best, with people clearly living oblivious to the world wide web. For instance, a woman at a bed and breakfast told me there was internet in her home, so with my computer I could surely connect. When I asked for the password, she looked baffled (perhaps because I don't know the Italian word for “password,” and even if I did, the woman would not have understood that the darn newfangled contraption with all them blinking lights would ever need a password) and had to get her son. He showed up and explained to me that their internet was being provided courtesy of a local wifi hotspot that costs money to use and that his code would not work for my computer. They welcomed me in to use their computer, and so I sat in their smoky parlor while they watched the father go on the local news for being the head chef in a cooking demonstration.

Secondly, and more interestingly, I have been very busy here, in spite of being alone in a foreign country. When I am not biking (or eating, resting, or taking phot's), I shop for food, find a place to stay, and talk to as many people as I can. Especially over the last 20 days – in Agrigento, Mascali, and now Palermo – I have been taken such great care of by various friends I have met here in Sicilia.

These are friends that I certainly want to keep throughout my life, for they are all of “buon hombre” material. I don't mean to count out the women; they are just as warm, just as loving, just as wonderful of people. Last week in Mascali, with my friend Andreas, his family, and some of his friends (big shout out to Charley, Sabene, Lena, and Egon), I felt as though I were part of their clan not just for a week but for life. Instead of constantly updating this blog and sitting by myself, reading riting and rithmaticking, I stayed in their company, where they would readily translate their German stories to English so that I could be a part of the conversation. Here in Palermo, though I am trying to learn Italian and can follow what is being said, I have difficulty expressing my own thoughts. But no matter: these cats are very patient and enjoy learning English as much as I do Italian. Sometimes I just want to scream out Cazzo! when I can't communicate what I mean, but we take our time and eventually understand each other.

I can't get everything out that I have seen and done here, vero, but I can comment on how supremely Sicilia has surpassed my expectations. I am very fortunate to have met the people I did, but as Andreas has said, you have to be in the game to have a shot at winning. If I were not able and willing to take the chance out here, eager to take the risk, ready to take on the challenge, then I would not have met any of these great people.

So far, people from every part of Europe have been marvelously welcoming and friendly. But I am especially glad to have met some people my age, and very interesting ones, at that. For instance, at the moment, I am sitting in Raimondo's room listening to Alice Cooper, Bruce Springsteen, and John Prine. Last night, we tossed around a football (an AMERICAN football) but cut it short because the ball was flat as a dead pancake's EKG. And the best part is that I feel as though it were absolutely normal to be hanging out here, many thousands of miles from home. (By the way, Google Maps is the best (true that double true) for showing people the stark differences between Sicilia and America; Chicago is pretty impressive and having a pool in the backyard is close to a dream).

Now I must prepare myself for a traghetto (ferry) to Genova, where I will somehow make my way up to Paris.

Guh? The decoration of a B&B. Feng Shui?

I find myself already looking forward to the next time I will see these great people, whether it be here again in August, in Austria in the summer for a festival or two, or back in Chicago five years down the road. Any day, I will be ready to make them feel at home in my home.

Sicilian Rain (to the tune of "Four Fat Trumpettes")

12/2/11 (completed 16/2/11)


Agrigento, Sicilia (completed in Mascali, Sicilia)


Look at that sun... sinkin´ like a ship...


Last night, I had my first experience with CouchSurfing, and I have to say that it was perhaps the perfect match. I could not have hoped for a better situation and probably could not have had more fun than I did with people I had just met. Then again, that seems to be the case for much of Sicilia at the moment. For reference, posterity, and so that the truth may be known (it's out there!), I'll recount the close friends I've made in my two weeks here.

First, there was the Gang of Four back in Catania, which consisted of myself, a fellow Chicagoan girl, an Austrian man with immense knowledge of European and worldwide festivals, and a Frenchman living in Munich who appeared ten years younger than he was.


I got lost here, but I was happy


We united for the night of my birthday and enjoyed the spectacular fireworks in honor of Sant Agata, later sharing a beer and some dessert. Just before that, I had met a very kind and warm Sicilian guy who formed a special bond with me and my Austrian friend and even invited us to his friend's place for pasta and wine that night. Though I may not see these people again, at least not in the near future, the time we few days we had together were wonderful and meaningful.

Next, I was welcomed into a new city by some very kind strangers who seemed to have nothing to do but love life.


For me? This almond blossom is the reason for the Mandorla in Fiore festival in Agrigento, which brought dancers from all over the world


What I mean is that each of these people appeared to have a very simple recipe for having fun and using their time. Allow me to explain: I first met the man on the bike while I was riding to Ragusa. He showed me all the smaller and less trafficked roads to take and was very patient to let me stop and take as many pictures as I wanted to. We just rode together and had a bit of pizza for lunch. Enzo took his time and was in no rush. We met two British girls with whom we then spent the remainder of the afternoon, walking around this beautiful city and again taking our time, for this was life. We each had no where else to be and no other obligations other than enjoying ourselves and the view in that moment. I am very much unfamiliar with this notion, for back home and at school, there was always something I had to do, always something ahead to think about and worry about and no I can't go out, no I have to go, no I have to study or run . Never has my adult life been as free from worry and concern as it is now, but there is still much to learn to approach the level of carefree living that these friends show; for them, they seem to always be in the moment and do not concern themselves with the past or present.

In Modica, I met a teacher and her students, one of which invited me to be part of her family for a day. The teacher herself was being extremely hospitable , helping me because she herself had traveled when she was my age and knew the trouble of finding a place just to sleep. Even though her house was not exactly in order at the moment, she welcomed me to sleep on an extra foldable mattress in the small living room dominated by the toys of her two small children. When I say her life is not “in order,” I mean that, at age 50, she is raising her two children alone. The little boy and girl are 3-year-old twins that were born prematurely and so have developmental issues, making them even more difficult to rear. Furthermore, her apartment was a mess from having recently to move from one place to this one, which was old and probably not “safe” for living. Her cat had to live in the bathroom, for she was afraid it would run out the door or just tear up the furniture otherwise. This made the already small bathroom even more cramped and impossible. It also rendered the shower essentially useless. But the kicker is that Kitty, the profesoresa, has to take care of her sick mother, who is immobile and nonresponsive. In spite of all this, she let me stay over for a night and even fed me some pasta for dinner. And while one might expect such a load of troubles to tear a person apart, Kitty was the picture of a happy and loving woman. Sure, she mentioned a few times that she would like some help and that she did not sleep the previous night, but she was always smiling in a cheerful way and had a very positive outlook on life.

Rosanna and her family were extremely kind and also ready to love and enjoy life. Staying with them reminded me of my childhood, when we would go to my grandparents' house some Sundays and have dinner, usually a delicious barbecue or some Vito and Nick's Pizza, generally with some sort of pie for dessert, and I was free of cares. With the family, I visited the grandparents and had a lovely chat before walking to a nearby house in which lived the cousins.


Ancient Greek ruins in Agrigento, pretty much the coolest thing ever; also the second biggest site of these outside of Athens



They knew some English, so we ended up speaking in half English and half Sicilian. The whole night, no one spoke of having to get back to do work, or of another obligation they had to anything; instead, everyone was genuinely overjoyed to be visiting with their family and this new visitor. They treated me better than I could have hoped and fed me some Sicilian pizza, which I am finding is just as common and comfort-food-esque out here as it is back home, being bought for get-togethers with friends.

The final group puts the icing on the cake of this wonderful observation about the joys of being able to sit back and enjoy life; or of staying free of appointments, petty worries, and stress; or at least of knowing how to separate work and pleasure and working only to allow for the pleasure of food, travel, and family. Three of the four guys with whom I was staying in Agrigento were students at the archeological school, meaning they had zero monies in their pockets and not too great of prospects post-graduation. And yet, these guys treated me as though I were a guest of honor, buying me food and drinks and generally making sure I was having a great time. These guys and the girls we met later and the rest of their many pals were the warmest group of friends I have ever met, for certain. It was something extraordinary to me for all these students to be able to spend an entire weekend away from the books and have fun with a strange visitor. They had tests coming up but seemed to realize that they had an opportunity to have fun in a new way, which was far more important.

If I sound like a broken record, it is because every second Wednesday I've been taking lessons on imitations of malfunctioning hardware. But probably more relevant is that the common theme for these travels, I am finding, is the great kindness, overwhelming warmth, and abundant love of the people I meet, which I am constantly seeing is in fact universal.

Sicilia = Multa ospitalita

7/2/11


Modica, Sicilia

As the sun beats down on the patio outside this window, not even a wisp of a cloud in the sky; with my stomach full of pasta al dente, gorgonzola, and the world's best arance (oranges); and with the aroma of cafe still in my nostrils; I cannot help but reflect on how lucky I am to be living such a life. To those on the outside, it might seem difficult, dangerous, or downright crazy - and there certainly are elements of each of those things -, but in the end I acknowledge that I am experiencing a special and priveleged life, one that benefits from the kindness of all people. Indeed, an English girl I met yesterday asked me what the best part of traveling is, and I know I am repeating myself for the tenth time, but I answered that meeting people from around the world and being open to their generosity and warmth has been by far the most rewarding experience by far. Here are two stories to illustrate the awesome power of "random" kindness.


First, let's go back 4 days to February 3. Oh, look, it's my birthday, but I'm so far from home; what's a lad to do? I was staying in a hostel in Catania, which was in the middle of its annual festival of Sant'Agata. At this hostel, I had met a man from Austria who was a veritable encyclopedia when it comes to festivals all over the world, which is why he knew to come to Sicilia for February 3. Then there was a Sicilian from the center of the island who was trying to find work due to the problems of unemployment that are the same in Italy as in America. He was extremely kind and very grateful to have met such friendly people, and he even invited us to a friend's flat for some pasta al dente with pesto (I'm back with pesto, baby!). We met on my birthday two more cats, one by the name of Johan who is originally from France but lives in Munich and will be doing his own bike trip in California later in the year, and the other known as Ellie, who is actually from Chicago and is about my age. Andy made it a point that we celebrate the birthday in some way, for which I am very grateful, as I am not one to convince people to celebrate my life with me. It just so happens that on the night of my birthday, a huge and wonderful celebration was to take place in the main square. We headed down some 30 minutes early and almost were without space to wiggle our big toes if we so wanted. After a lackluster choir concert, which I could not hear too well, there followed two of the best birthday presents I got: a surprise tray of pastries with a candle burning on top, and the most magnificent fireworks/water/fire show I have ever seen. It was synchronized with the most epic of classical music, which made for a potent brew. For some reason the bass was turned all the way up and reminded me of when the Wu Tang Klan came out to Harvard for a concert. After the show, we headed to a bar for a beer and just had a great time together: the four of us from different backgrounds and there for different reasons, all enjoying life together for the moment.

The second story is even more wonderful, but I have very little time to recap it. Suffice it to say that I was riding on a busy road in some wonderful scenery, then turned off for a less traveled path, where I met a fellow biker who took me to an even less seldom traversed road that brought me by all sorts of rural castles (in truth!). We rode into Modica, a beautiful city in a valley with Baroque buildings, and set about replenishing our energies with some 'za ('zza?). In discovering the rest of the city, my cyclist friend, who was perhaps 40, also helped me find lodging for the night. When a B&B failed, he asked a lady hanging up her clothes to dry for another B&B, and she instead offered her home to me. Wow, right? But wait, there's more!

Later, we met these two English girls who had quit high school and came to be au pairs (a pair o'u pairs?) here in Modica. We four walked the streets while the sun set and saw some wonderful sights. The man left, and the girls and I walked around for a bit more before calling it a night. The next morning, I accompanied this woman to her school to teach her high school English class for the day, talking about Chicago, America, my trip, and what we think of Berlusconi (Burlawho? but really he's a terrible man and the current leader of Italy). Great, eh? BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

After class, I was planning my route in my head that I was about to take, when one of the girls came up to the teacher and offered her house to me for the night. Would I enjoy staying with her family? Of course! By the way, I just have to say that Italian girls are very beautiful, having that natural beauty that you don't see in models. I walked around for a bit until school got out, then I accompanied her and her brother to their house in the hills.

After a quick lunch of pasta and Gorgonzola, we chilled out for a bit and then went to a neighboring town to visit some relatives of theirs, specifically their grandparents and cousins. My oh my, this visit was amazing, and I have truly never experienced anything like it! Everyone was interested in what I was doing, and they were all very patient (nay, they even enjoyed it!) with my difficulty in speaking complete sentences in Italian and a few stumbling blocks when it came to understanding (Sicilian is kinda hard when I've been used to other dialects of Italian to this point). The coolest part was the little boy, Luigi, who was around 9 years old and loved to tell me jokes. He also made me a paper airplane and really wanted to sit next to me at dinner, where we had pizza (very similiar to back home, actually, except much less cheese and everybody gets their own small pizza). I can't fully describe how wonderful I felt and how amazing of an experience this was, but I hope that this can show a bit of how good it was: When we were getting ready to leave, everyone wanted to take multiple pictures of the moment and the entire group gathered together, and I had multiple goodbyes that felt like I were leaving a lifelong friend. They treated me as part of the family. And they made certain that I would be welcoming them when they came to visit Chicago, which I most certainly will!

Ah, there are pictures to accompany all of this, but I am not on my computer at the moment, as has mostly been the case here in Sicilia. Oh well. Until next time, say hi to a stranger or invite someone over for an evening where you normally wouldn't. I mean that! That encounter proved to me how important a relaxed and endless evening with family and friends is to health, wellbeing, and happiness.