What one week in Sicily has taught me
The only thing fast here are the cars, the cycles, the language. And for sure, that is enough for this slow Southern American who is trying diligently to tackle on a daily basis.
So here’s my take-away from a week living in Sicily:
🍞 The little streets that you KNOW can’t be streets are, indeed, streets. You make the sharp turn with confidence and go about your business.
🍞 The fresh fruit and vegetables alone are worth the move to this island country. The restaurants buy from local vendors each morning and by evening, they have created a masterpiece that sits on my plate - but only for a short time. I inhale the pizza, the pasta, and wonder how the next meal can get even better.
🍞 Aperitivo is a must (afternoon snacks and drinks before the evening meal, which starts around 9). So is the afternoon break (Controra). How could America have gotten it so wrong?
🍞 Dining outside is extraordinary. They have beautiful indoor spaces, but sitting on a hard chair, on the cobblestone surface just ignites a calmness in me. The ocean breeze, the frivolity of it all, the sunset. I’m taking this home with me to my deck and my wedding table. Who wants to join me outside for a meal?
🍞 I can do hard things. Still. The Italian language is no joke, and it’s difficult. Especially the Sicilian dialect which is so different than the language you find on the mainland. Most of the restaurant servers and owners know English - in pieces - enough to laugh about my attempt at Italian. They are patient even when I stumble. The servers from Morocco and Tunisia are fluent in English. I will continue to stumble because I want to learn.
🍞 Doing nothing is perfectly alright. And by the time I go to bed in the evening, there’s a calmness wrapping me. Even though I’m working, I’m much calmer than I would be at home in my office. Maybe it’s the Juliet balcony I begin my day on. Maybe it’s the cobblestone streets of the historic district. Maybe it’s the joy of dining in a restaurant each night. Maybe it’s Sicily.
