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A recap of our first Sicilian summer and the adventures that unfolded while travelling through Palermo, Catania, Cefalu, Syracuse, Taormina and Trapani. Tutto sta nel cuminciare. Everything depends on the beginning.
And so it was that we plucked the first 24 hours out of our first Sicilian summer like ripe berries. We talked the whole way to the airport, accidentally wearing matching blazers, fit more for the Luxembourg Gardens than three am at Stansted airport.
A red faced taxi driver called Giovanni, in typical fashion, herded us into the backseat of his Renault, asking us about our trip in a broken English that was better than our Italian, but still politely kept apologising for the miscommunication. He rushed us to a bodega to buy tickets for the bus that was -2 minutes away, and we hurtled towards our first stop, Palermo. Even on 2 hours of sleep, my eyes were rolling at the grassy hills and the countless types of fauna the Sicilian countryside boasted.
Even on the side of a highway, the island was stunning. A certain life bounced off the baroque buildings, excitement ran between alleyways adorned by Madonnelle street shrines and fairy lights. On the inside, our hotel was a stark white, embellished with blue tiles and huge windows. On the outside, it was literally a construction site plastered with scaffolding and protective metal sheets. Oh, but the rooftop made up for it not only because of the degree mountain view but also the hot tub. Never to waste a day no matter the circumstances, I forced myself to unpack and donned a white sundress painted with small pink rosebuds, my converse, a beaded scarf from India to cover my head like a Madonna, and my trusty cat eyes.