Guest post by Ramona! There is only one word for Sicilian drivers: insane! Stop means go a little slower, Yield means have a quick glance in the mirror, and the line in the middle of the road means there is a third lane.
Cars will pass you when there is oncoming traffic, on blind curves, and in tunnels. Did I mention everyone is going at 120 mph?
I knew Don was channeling his forefathers when instead of stopping for pedestrians, he just swerved around them. On occasion, I will find myself yelling, "bambino at 12 o'clock!", "nuns at 3 o'clock!" and "Kitten crossing the road!" Meanwhile, he would yell at me, "pull in your mirror!" as we enter another steep, narrow, cobblestoned street that I was sure was just a sidewalk.
"You can't go there!" was my pathetic refrain. "Oh, yes I can!" he would say, even if one time it appeared to be a one-way street.
After a day on the road, the only thing that could restore my equilibrium as well as my frazzled nerves was a campari and soda, a Negroni, or a sidecar, pronounced at our final bar in Sicily, 'side-deh-car'. Though you would think I wouldn't want to order anything with the word 'car' in it!
Pic of the Day: (Don here again) On our way to the Palermo airport we stopped at a seaside town, thinking we would dunk our feet in the ocean. But the beach, at 10:30am, was already a seething mass of people and there wasn't a parking spot in sight for miles. So we drove into town instead, where Ramona saw a billboard for a pastry place that has been in business since 1920, Palazzalo. That's good enough for us. As we parked the car we saw someone in the window munching on a 'brioche con gelato', the lovely concoction we wrote about on the last posting. I had to have one, and asked for a combination of pistachio and cantaloupe gelato on mine. It was heaven!
Now we are in Rome, and we'll catch you up with our many adventures very soon. I can tell you though, on Tuesday afternoon it is actually raining, so for those of you back home in BC, we commiserate. Of course, it's not 28 degrees in Vancouver and you're not going to a fantastic restaurant called Roscioli tonight. Bwaa-hah-hah!
I remember driving in Italy. Stephen (yes, that guy who doesn’t have a drivers licence) seemed to think I should just “adapt”. I used to take the long road around the town we stayed in just to avoid the main street. Our host thought I should just go through town but the street was about five inches wider than my tiny car and I never knew who was supposed to back up when someone was coming towards you. I did like driving fast though, as long as I wasn’t supposed to be looking for a sign or a turn off.