PREGO!

About 2 months before leaving France I came to the realization, "Zoot! Ineed to take advantage of this beautiful place called Europe!" Going to Greece to take a nap on the porch of one of the white houses on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea has always been a BIG dream of mine. Ever since the film "Th Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" with the girl who romantically falls in love with a Greek boy. But considering I already did that in Corsica with my French boy. And more realistically speaking, it was a pricey trip. This is where knowing a European family comes in handy. Cousin Sophie was doing an internship in Sicily and said it would be a wonderful idea if I came to Italy and she dragged me around. (Thanks Soph!) Et VOILA my story of Italy:
Starting from the end, the last night we winded through the old Italian alleys in Palermo and came upon a grand open area. Circled by ancient buildings bombarded by America in WWII. Uh, cool. I'd like to say I partied in a historic place. There was a reggae D.J. which you can never go wrong with or the cheap beer, and of course dancing! This place was like a little magical land we were warped into. The minute you leave and are back in the ally ways, it's all muffled, you'd never know there was this party from the outsider.
The first 5 days were spent peacefully in a tiny village called Son Vito. 1/2 the size of Salida,(for those of you who know Salida) We, Sophie and I, rod a little mo-ped into town and spend everyday on a private beach, another family member Domonique was a membership of. We made friends with Stefano the lifeguard and tossed around a ball with him. Beautiful Italian men carried bowls of iced coca-nut for 1 Euro. We ate yummy gelato, and bought pretty bracelets from Ali-Babba the Pakistani. Who praised us on loving life and being happy with what you have. It was probably 5 of the most tiring days of my life. : ).
Going to Palermo was such an extreme change of opposites. The city is poor, and the Mafias control of government is quite visible. There is hardly any trash control, therefore the streets are filthy. I didn't see one empty trash bin. Which sometimes left you with no choice. You could hardly see the cracks of the sidewalks because cigarette butts were nicely squeezed between. And yet, so much to absorb. The people, the noise, the smells (oh god, the smells) the food. Italians will eat just about anything with bread. From their pasta to their ice cream! They speak loud, and the men are handsome. And even though one has to be able to tolerate extreme uncomfort Sicily is such a typical hot, loud, busy, sticky, tasty Italy!