At Peace in Palermo

A paper sign on the door indicated that this indeed was my hostel. I was a bit worried by the obscure entrance, but beyond the door was a more comforting sight. A small drawing room hosted a steep set of stairs that led to a hall of bedrooms and a kitchen. Here I was greeted by Veronica who gave me a quick tour of the abode and very enthusiastically circled different landmarks on a printout of the city. After my conversation with her, I was pumped and ready to explore Palermo! She suggested a pasta place for lunch and, being very hungry (and thus predisposed to accept any suggestion of food), I took the advice.

Ferro di Cavello was all I could hope for in a Sicilian restaurant. I sat out on the front patio waiting for my pasta and meatballs and watching the other patrons (note: apparently Italians don’t normally have meatballs with pasta, but they prepare them well enough). My surroundings were quite the spectacle. I was treated to scenes of movie-like Italians, exaggerated hand-gestures and all. This was also the first time I witnessed men of all ages greet each other in the “European” fashion.

For several hours, I walked the streets of Palermo, checking each of the circled sites on my map. I passed the Palazzo Pretorio, Palermo Cathedral, Teatro Massimo, la Porta Nuova, various parks, and finished at the port. Taking a seat on a paint-flaked bench facing the sea, I tried to commit the moment to memory. An old German couple sat on another bench to my right. A full-bellied man was down on the rocks handling a fishing rod and two teens arrived by motorcycle to do the same. The heat of the sun was a nice change from Milan's recent chill and an unwavering wind provided the perfect counterbalance. Calm and peace.

In the evening, Giuseppe, the hostel owner, took me and three other residents out for drinks. Giuseppe has owned the hostel for seven years and said he goes out nearly every night. What a boss! My company included a German Erasmus student studying in Palermo, and an Englishman and Australian who were both out of school and travelling for fun. The 1.50 euro beers were large and the cheapest I’ve found in a European bar (the next best being 3 euros, the average being 5 euros), but the most amazing feature was the sight.  

Andrea, a local student, summed up the scene: “Sicilians don’t like drinking inside. We need to feel free. We prefer to be outside.” The street was crammed with partiers, food vendors, and a broken stream of motorcycles trying to navigate the crowd. Men with boom boxes and a buzzing chatter played as our soundtrack. There were benches with barrel-supported tables, though most of the seating consisted of stacked food pallets. If seats became available, you had to jump at the chance. Fortunately, Giuseppe was a well-seasoned pro. Conversation and beer flowed. We discovered how different cultures can meld and shared each of our escapes from conventionality. Exciting tales of travel were told and another day’s wonder-induced sobriety faded into the night.