Palermo, Sicily

On Jan 3 - still in Sicily - , we celebrated kids day, and Emily and Owen planned our outings.  After playing on the Kindles without having to hear, "Too much time on the electronics" and eating donuts for breakfast, they decided it was playground time.   Dave coached them in hitting plastic blow-up balls with a racket.  Within minutes, other children eagerly joined the team.  I found it amazing that even without verbal communication, the kids comfortably interacted.

We walked to the port, found a little cafe, and again enjoyed pizza, two sandwiches, two zeppole, an amaretto cappuccino, and a Kit Kat for only 6 euro. (The Kit Kat, which cost the most at 1 euro 50, because Emily preferred the packaged American candy to the Italian desserts.)  We ended the day at a gelateria where a homeless man asked us for money and the owner quickly kicked him out.  This event spurned a lively debate where - my father would be proud - Emily took the Republican stance.  "He should get a job."  I tried to explain the complex issues of opportunities, economy, empathy, and the non-existence of "fairness."  I felt like Mrs. Keaton talking with Alex on Family Ties.

The next day, Alessandro took us to Palermo - the "hub" of the Island since the 9th century and  supposedly the noisiest city in Sicily.  I thought of my Uncle Matt, a self-proclaimed mobologist, as memorials to the judges and lawyers who were killed trying to fight the Mafia greeted us.  Apparently, for years, the Mafia channeled funds from Rome and the EU meant to redevelop the city.

We started our tour at Monreale, twelfth century cathedral considered a wonder of the medieval world and renowned for its amazing mosaics.

Alessandro then took us to a hole-in-the-wall outlet to try traditional street food.  He refused to tell us it was spleen until after we took several bites.

 

Dave ran up the old Opera house stairs Rocky style and we then walked through a street market.

On the drive home, we stopped at an overlook to see Castellammare del Golfo, the biggest of the local fishing ports.  One writer, who lived there in the 1950's, claimed eighty percent of the adult males had served a prison sentence and one in three had committed murder.  Hard to believe while looking at the postcard perfect view.