The art of doing nothing
I first heard that phrase - the art of doing nothing - in “Under the Tuscan Sun” years ago. I rarely think of that most days because nothing is not an option, even in retirement. It’s the “sweetness” that comes from doing nothing. The feeling of freedom, peace, joy in simply being still and well, doing nothing. It has absolutely nothing to do with being lazy, as one might think. Sicilians have it down to a science, and even visitors when they arrive in this town, adapt rather quickly.
Len and I went out last evening around 5:30 p.m. for dinner. The restaurants weren’t open. For hours, the staff set tables with linens and silverware, move chairs to specific outdoor tables, sweep and mop indoor floors but no food until later. We hovered, anxiously hoping one would be open, but no luck.
We walked. We found the tiny bakery - G. Domingo - from which our host purchased our pastries. We got one each of five different almond filled cookies. Through the small cobblestone streets, we heard mass resonating from Chiesa Madre di Santa Maria; we watched waiters still setting up tables and families enjoying their children playing. Our eyes caught each ‘for sale’ sign on every apartment building; could we live there? Fairly soon, we arrived back where we began.
A small bar sits at the end of the bridge - part of hotel Sopra Le Mura located across the small street (which I think is extraordinarily beautiful and perfectly located) - and we sat. The six tables overlook the marina, and quickly, a waiter brings us an appetizer of bread/sauce and olives. For Len, a gin and tonic. For me, an espresso martini. Honestly, one of the best I have ever tasted - I told the girl it was her touch and Illy coffee.
As the breeze from the harbor reminds us where we are, we understand that doing nothing but enjoying our drink and each other is a necessary practice for living well in Sicily. We spy a couple who were on the boat tour with us that afternoon and strike up a conversation. From Sweden, the young couple was enjoying their last night before returning to the cold. They loved this little coastal town, but really enjoyed Palermo.
We lingered for at least an hour, and then walked down the main historic street, Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi. Doors had opened and merchants were selling their wares. We went back to the restaurant that caught our eye at the beginning and sat down. A carafe of white wine and cacio e’ pepe later, we were satisfied. It was going on 9:30 p.m.
