In Closing: Part 3 of 4

Addaura Reef and the Country Club aided our understanding of why so many Palermitans want to go to Miami. Reef is an outdoor lounge situated on the water with the decor and atmosphere of a swanky party in Malibu (lengthy traffic jam, valet line of Porsches, dudes wearing fedoras with jeans and sport coats). Country Club was like any of Vegas' sensory overload stations (mulitple DJs and dancefloors, expensive drinks, fake tans, heels like stilts). My limited interest in dancing wasn't a problem because anyone can do the one armed fist pump while lightly bending their knees to the bass line.

One and Done
Having heard discussion about the local delicacy the entire time we've been here, I finally tried to enjoy pane con la milza (bread with spleen) from the city's most prolific street vendor--Nino Ballerino. Nino's title comes from the dance he does while constructing your salty heart failure: the bits of innards are cooked in a bubbling pot of lard, smothered with parmesan, and sprinkled with lemon. Despite every effort to mask the metallic taste and spongy texture with as much cheese and lemon as possible, I literally choked down the only unpleasant flavor that I have tasted here (other than raw anchovies). When I learned mid-bite that cow lungs are occasionally mixed in to the recipe for no discernible reason, I was done.

Luckily I avoided the other vaunted favorite babbaluci -- snails. These aren't your smothered in butter, salt, and parsley snails of escargot esteem; these snails are flash fried in oil, sprinkled with garlic and pepper, and served with a beer. I hadn't recovered from spleen/lungs/throat yet, so I stuck to the pleasure of simply saying babbalush (which sounds a lot like Vince Vaughn saying babbaganoush in Wedding Crashers).

Segesta, Poggioreale, and Gibellina with a winery lunch in the middle

Seeking an escape from the city, we took a day trip to Segesta with our friends Davide and Alessandro. We hiked to an ancient temple and amphitheater, toured a winery, then ventured to the intriguing modern ruins left in the wake of an earthquake in the late 1960s. The 6.8 quake struck a series of small villages, the most devastated being Gibellina. Beyond the initial damage, residents suffered tremendously from freezing temperatures because the military and rescue workers were not able to reach the city for 3 days. Just 3 buildings remain from the original town with the rest entombed in an incredibly haunting memorial that is considered a work of art. The city's buildings completely collapsed, so cement conforming to the network of old streets was pored over the ruins. Essentially, the footprint of the city remains intact so that people can walk the old streets, but everything surrounding you is smoothed over with cement. A foreboding stroll.

Next, we stumbled upon the ruins of Poggioreale, which had also been destroyed by the earthquake. While many of the buildings remained standing, there was so much damage that the entire city was abandoned, leaving an eerie scene behind. The whole episode reminded me of a book released a few years ago called The World Without Us, in which the author describes how nature would reassert its dominance if humanity disappeared one day. Plants, small critters, plenty of bugs, and a pack of mysterious, ghostly white dogs are the earliest indications that the town will be overrun by the elements in the coming decades. On a positive note, the school remains standing without a hint of structural damage.



Mrs. Kohl, retired
After being treated to a number of in class celebrations, a handmade apple tort, jewelry, ceramics, multiple invitations to graduation parties, and some very thoughtful, generous notes from appreciative students and teachers, Meredith has hung up her proverbial set of Expo Markers and ended her illustrious 5 years in the classroom. She Taught For America, then for Italy, now she'll seek out a different calling.

In Closing: Part 2 of 4

Right after Seal Team 6 made the world a better place and Pope John Paul II was beatified in Rome, we stormed from Palermo to Dallas for the incredibly memorable wedding of our friends Brennan and Elizabeth. There was much discussion of what we would eat when we first landed on American soil during a layover in Charlotte -- fried chicken from Bojangles, orange chicken from Panda Express, or quesadillas from Airport Mexican Joint?  We settled on bagel sandwiches that fulfilled a previously unsatisfied craving for hand held food items containing something other than salt cured pork.

We were greeted in Dallas by a barefooted best man that has been doing work for the Peace Corps in Malawi. His journey home included a day on the top of the bus with a pile of dried out fish, a rickety flight to South Africa, another to Senegal, and a layover in DC. I'm not sure if any of that explains his missing shoes, but compared to his week long journey, our 24 hours didn't seem so bad. Burritos from Chipotle were enough to make our bodies forget that we should be jet lagged.

Other than the indignity we had to suffer at the hands of Mavericks fans puffing their chests out following a sweep of the Lakers, the weekend was an incredible way to return to the US. Here's a rundown of the highlights:

• Rehearsal dinner with gorgeous views of the Dallas skyline
• Golf before the wedding (had to let the groom win)
• Poignant ceremony (groom cried, bride stayed strong)
• Smashing party of a reception (glow sticks and sparklers, need I say more?)
• Sunday brunch with the requisite bloody marys, Irish coffee, and mimosas that synthesize brilliantly with the body's desire for a nap
• A visit to the Sixth Floor Museum that commemorates JFK's assassination
• The first of many future tangos with cuisine from El Salvador. Mexican food has now been replaced in the pantheon of pallet pleasers. 
• The overall greatness of generous hosts

With the remnants of sangria-margarita slurpees coloring our minds, we boarded a plane back to Palermo.

Stop looking for me; I am not on this jolly trolly

The following weekend brought Mel and Kris Seifert to visit. Beyond the typical sightseeing, we were treated to Palermo's Gay Pride Parade invigorating the streets and shutting down traffic everywhere for hours. The city simply isn't structured to handle the amount of cars on an ordinary day, but adding in a parade that stretched for at least a mile was devastating. There was the added entertainment of the parade crossing paths with a traditional wedding party and the proud Sicilian fathers/uncles/ brothers that didn't want their little angel's big day ruined by a bunch of tomfoolery. There were some tense moments, but the crisis was averted when the parade swarmed the bride and groom in celebration.

The following weekend was special for two reasons: Palermo's soccer team was playing in the Italian Cup Final against Inter Milan in Rome and an aircraft carrier of US Soldiers was parked in the harbor. We spotted the ship first, because it is quite a presence next to the cruise ships and freighters that traditionally dot the harbor, but the 3,000 marines and navy personnel certainly didn't blend in with the locals. They had been out to sea for more than 3 months, so they let loose in as many ways as possible. One soldier was actually impaled on his first night in port when he attempted to jump a fence.

Palermo's team colors are pink and black, so all the military guys were buying bright pink memorabilia of all sorts: jerseys, hats, flags, banners. The vendors could not have been happier.

We were on a particularly rowdy bus returning from the beach when we invited a group over to our place for a drink. We spent the rest of the night in a number of bars cheering for Palermo with a bunch of guys that needed nothing more than a good time. I didn't work up the courage to ask them if they'd had any high profile funerals on their ship in recent weeks, so I'll just assume that Seal Team 6 was somewhere on board.

More to come tomorrow :)

Watching the game with a gaggle of military men, some of Meredith's students were sitting right behind us. 

In Closing: Part 1 of 4

Our departure from Palermo on Saturday and Italy on Sunday has crept up much quicker than anticipated. In an effort to fill in the previous 10 weeks and offer an epitaph to our adventure, I will conclude La Dolce Giusti in 4 parts this week. Picking up where we left off in April...

My parents arrived in Rome for the first leg of a two week jaunt through Italy that saw enough red wine consumption to supply a Catholic Church for at least 3 months of mass. We started off touring the various museums and attractions at the Vatican. While the Pope's Gardens, Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter's Basilica overwhelm the senses, the obnoxious crowds of students and tour groups detract from what is otherwise an incredible experience. There's something off putting about overhearing tales from last night's bender while enjoying the majesty of the Pieta. Another image that I'll never understand/forget is the long line of people waiting to have their picture taken in front of a crucified Jesus statue. Is that something you smile for?

After taking in all of Rome's major sights, we headed up to a villa in Tuscany for a week. Situated in between Siena and Florence, the tiny country village of San Barberino Val d'Elsa was precisely the kind of escape that my parents were looking for -- a medieval, walled city with exactly one cafe, one bar, and one restaurant. Our residence was the quintessential, picturesque setting that Diane Lane/Julia Roberts chick flicks are made of. 

We made day trips to Florence (where I'd love to spend the next 10 years), Siena (where I'd love to live after age 50), San Gimignano (perfect for a long weekend), Volterra (perfect for a day trip on a motorcycle), and Bologna (where going to college would have been incredible). Our days were marked by slow mornings, long breakfasts, lunchless afternoons, and enormous dinners that knocked us into deep food comas (or was that the grappa/limoncello/wine?).

When we returned to Rome for a few days, we were met by Meredith and our long-time friend Courtney. With a solid 10 days of Italian cooking stretching our belts, we found an Eritrean spot right around the corner from our hotel that I have been craving ever since. Fabulously seasoned meats and legumes consumed by hand with the aid of spongy flatbread that soaks up all the flavor -- Eritrean cuisine has entered the Pantheon of preferred flavors that delight my pallet, knocking Mexican food from that number 3 spot.

En route home, no doubt slowed by the complimentary after dinner liqueur likely procured when my dad promised the proprietor a favorable rating on TripAdvisor, we encountered a honeymooning couple from Korea that could not find their bed & breakfast. Finding it unfortunate that the newlyweds were spending their first hours of matrimony wandering the dark streets of Rome in a jet-lagged stupor, we overcame our own stupor of a different sort to ensure that this thing wasn't nullified before consummation. Mission Accomplished!

After traipsing around the chaos of Rome for a few more days and taking in Easter Mass (far away from the flock that inundated the Vatican), we descended upon a rain soaked Palermo, jumped aboard the big, red WE ARE TOURISTS bus and got an overview of the city that was enhanced by the sultry narrator.
Riding a craving for foreign food that our guests indulged, we ended up at Uncle Joe's Cantina for tacos, burritos, and Tequila boom booms (again, complimentary because of Dad's TripAdvising) that involve smashing the glass against a table to induce a fizzing that complicates the required rapid consumption.

Following a few additional days of sightseeing, overeating, and adequately imbibing, we bid our guests farewell and looked forward to returning home quickly for the wedding of the century.


Coming Soon: Visiting Dallas for a wedding/rave before it was America's Most Appreciated City (Lebron, tell me how my Dallas tastes!); the Gay Pride Parade that shut the entire city down for at least 3 days; and 3000 US Navy men wearing pink (cue the Village People).