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Published: August 20th 2015
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The last time I was in Italy in summer was 1981. I was young and svelte. I don't remember getting tired. Perhaps I only lazed around on deck chairs? Perhaps I have forgotten the bad bits and only remember the past in a haze of happy nostalgia? Now I want to "sightsee" and there is more of me to carry around.
The morning proved hard going in a sun that beat down on us ferociously while the humidity got up to about 70%. The markets (Mercato del Capo and BallarĂ²) were insane. Loud, crowded, smelly and colourful. I saw so many tables groaning with dead fish, I did wonder about the state of fish stocks in the Mediterranean. Apparently, the greatest threat faced by this sea is in fact over fishing. I sampled one huge and plump freshly shucked oyster. It glistened in the sunlight and tasted of the ocean. It was more gelatinous in texture than the oysters I am used to eating back home And it was also delicious. I ate things that come from the insides of animals. This is something I am not accustomed to doing, and I quite liked what I tasted! We sampled pane
con la milza (minus the bread, just the beef spleen, cooked in lard and flavoured with lemon juice) and stigghiola (fried calf or ovine intestines, similar to chitlins). As the hygiene requirements in the markets are dubious at best, I did wonder about the risk of eating this street food. So far, so good.
While meandering on our walk, we met two lovely Sicilian gentlemen who had a shoe shop. They chatted to me for ages about where we were from and what had brought us here etc. They were very interested to hear about what life in Australia is like. and yes, they did ask me if kangaroos really roam the streets. A pair of fine brown loafers made by them was purchased for Mark and I have promised them a post card of a roo when we get home.
During the course of the morning we also visited Il Teatro Massimo (opera house), the church of San Cataldo (Arab-Norman style), La Martorana (which had some beautiful shimmering gold mosaics), San Giovanni degli Eremiti (delightful Norman cloisters) and the Cathedral.
A siesta was required when by about 2pm, the thickness of the air felt like hot
San Cataldo
Moorish architecture soup. Not even a delicious lemon granita could bring more than a few minutes of respite!
When, after our nap, it became apparent that more food was to be consumed (I have said to Mark that another stomach would be helpful while travelling), we tried out a place called "Buatta" on Corso Vittorio Emanuele. A good choice! Asking for tips from the locals is always a good idea. The food was excellent and Mark found a range of Sicilian craft beers to boot.
Palermo is not for the faint hearted. There is beauty to be found but so much of it is crumbling, filthy, smelly and very, very raw. Somehow, despite the decay and detritus, I am fascinated by this place. The people survive and thrive in the midst of chaos. The shoemaker said that life here is all about survival. People do what they can to get by. In comparison, the kind of life I am used to seems so sanitised and quite frankly, bland. There's no doubt that I am getting an injection of adrenaline by experiencing Palermo. And I love it!
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