Monday 13 May - We slept for about 8 hours, surprisingly long as initially there was considerable noise both inside and outside the hotel. No dinner the night before left us feeling quite peckish. Breakfast at our hotel was a continental affair. The dining area consisted of two rooms, both with buffets sporting boiled eggs, cheeses, deli type meats, breads and pastries, muesli, yoghurt, tea and coffee. We ate our fill then ventured out once more into the labyrinth of alleys and laneways of Palermo.
Firstly we went back to the Avis office and met Vita Maria who was very helpful. She assured us that all was in order for tomorrow at 10am, an auto car, complete with gps with English translation. Michael’s mind at ease, we set off to explore.
The day was sunny in spite of the forecast for rain. We wandered through the shopping precinct, in and out of clothing shops, I suspect Michael dreading each foray, wondering at what cost. He took it in good spirit though, suggesting I might like this or that item. I love and appreciate his efforts but we are polar opposites on the subject of my wardrobe. What he considers bright and colourful I consider too busy and/or garish. I did end up buying a tailored navy jacket, smart and hopefully very versatile. It got the nod of approval anyway from my stylist in tow.
We found the bar and restaurant precinct and stopped for an early afternoon aperitif, beer for himself, margarita for me. At this point we tried to phone Alinta and the children but no luck. Eventually, while we shared another beer, she phoned us back via What’s App. It was the usual chaos, kids clamouring for a turn, Harley laughing when he saw Granny, crying because he wanted to hold the phone, going into raptures when he saw Poppa, and Alinta trying to maintain some semblance of order. It was lovely to see them all though and I hope to keep this contact up regularly during our Italian tour.
As we continued our meanderings, we stumbled across some markets which seemed to stretch forever. Clothing, trinkets, the usual market fare enjoyed the world over. I did hesitate over some happy pants, decided against it, even though my stylist was keen (gaudy and garish). After we moved on, I regretted not getting some, even though they were extremely colourful.
The siesta break seems to creep up surreptitiously. One minute shops and cafés are open, the next minute they are closed, not due to re-open until 4 or 5pm. We ended up back in the town square, checking out more historical buildings and statues. Eventually our interest waned and we set off to find a restaurant recommended by the concierge at our hotel, the Carpaccio. It was literally around the corner from the hotel and so easy enough to find.
About 7.30 pm, we ventured back to the Carpaccio, already buzzing with activity. We were seated at the back of the restaurant, up a short flight of steps. The conversations of each of the tables around us seemed to echo in our corner. The collective American voice was predominant, with overtones of the ever colourful Italian. We heard snippets of suburban stories not unlike Days of Our Lives, and about as riveting. The Italians of course were safe from our involuntary eavesdropping, we not understanding one word.
We ordered an entrée each, Michael a prawn cocktail and myself grilled octopus. These were delicious, the prawns of gigantic proportions, and the octopus very flavoursome. The problem being that we were already quite full after eating this course, especially me as the octopus came on a bed of roast potatoes. I tried to resist but they were amazing and I kept on nibbling away until our plates were cleared.
This restaurant was run
by a flamboyant fellow who commenced to cook pasta near our table. First the boiling water, then in with the spaghetti. After draining, he proceeded to add olive oil, bacon, tomatoes and white wine into the pan. Every now and then, he used his giant wooden spoon to stir with great flourish. He also wafted the ensuing steam about with his other hand, inviting everyone, in animated Italian, to inhale the fragrant aromas he was creating. Then he called out to Michael, “Matriciana?”
“Si!” was Michael’s enthusiastic reply.
Michael was not the only recipient of matriciana. A table of Americans also partook of this delectable dish. I had swordfish steak with green vegetables which was very nice but the pasta was the hit of the meal. So, after stuffing ourselves to the brim, absolutely no room for dessert, right? Wrong! We ended up sharing a cake concoction that sounded better than it tasted. All in all though, it was a great culinary experience for our last night in Palermo.
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