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Compared to Naples the architecture is in a similar state of crumbling disrepair in Palermo; if you look closely you can even still see marks where bullets struck buildings during WW2. However the people are more vibrant here than Naples, the atmosphere friendly and I’ve yet to step on a single dog crap. Then there is no army of illegal African immigrants annoying you every few metres to buy their fake rubbish either and (except for the traffic which is horrendous) the pace of life seems slower. I tend to think that it’s more like Paris, except that it’s not as clean and the hands keep pace with the moving lips; like sign language for the vision impaired only these people are mostly very loud.

In late afternoon after siesta, they stroll around to be seen or sit over drinks and snacks in sidewalk cafes, business people in animated discussion, women making a point with a flick of their long black hair and lovers in silent conversation with their eyes in shadowed corners -after all, this is the island of the romantics.

I skipped lunch again and waited until a respectable hour at night when I could research the local cuisine. Still slightly limping on the purple foot, I chose a place nearby and sat watching the local passing parade watching me as I indulged in a quenching ale before attempting to interpreted the menu.

Now, while I don’t want this blog to turn into a culinary tour of the palate, I feel it’s my duty to make you incredibly envious as you sit down to your chops and three veg! So here goes. For my first dinner in Palermo I stuck to the rules and ordered the local favourite of pasta con le sarde. Picture homemade pasta cooked to a perfect andante with sardines, fennel, peppers, capers and pine nuts liberally dribbled with fantastically aromatic olive oil. With chunks of their freshly baked crusty bread and two huge glasses (no such thing as a standard measure here) of the local red and I reckon that it was the closest thing to gastronomic heaven, Italian style.

While the guide books might tell you that Sicilians eat very late, don’t believe it. I reckon that they graze all the time; like pubescent teenagers scared that the next meal might be their last. Around 18:00 when the shops re-open after siesta, Sicilians can be seen drinking and snacking like there’s no tomorrow; like they’ve just finished Ramadan only these people are almost exclusively Catholic.

Accordingly to the local rumour, the Italian government is seriously planning on building a single arch bridge from Messina (Sicily) to the mainland, a distance of something like 4ms. Personally, with Mt Etna still providing fireworks every few months and the area subject to regular earth quakes, I think I’ll stick to the ferry!

I joined my Peregrine tour group yesterday which is only five plus the tour leader and I’m the youngest, although we are all within a few years of each other. Everyone appears to be very fit and incredibly well travelled so travel stories are very entertaining, especially over dinner and especially over a few bottles of the local red wine.

Not many pics this time because I haven’t been out much to click the sights but the ankle is remarkably improved so more pics next time.

Until then; ciao for now.

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