We landed, and I felt like my watch had suddenly slowed down. And no – I’m not talking about that subjective feeling we get when we catch our breath outside the city. Literally – the second hand’s movement was noticeably elongated. The sun was joyfully shining straight in my face, signaling that I should relax, because whatever’s going to happen will happen, and what won’t, well, it won’t. Besides – why think about anything other than the present?
We called Giuseppe, who – to our surprise – didn’t speak any English. The dialect we tried to communicate with him was a blend of Italian-Spanish with a dash of broken English. Nevertheless, we managed to understand each other. In theory, because – although he knew what time we would be checking in – Giuseppe was only going to arrive three hours later.
- But what do you mean, three hours? Are we going to wait outside the house?
- Yes, because I’m at a family party now, and you know, I just can’t. But you’ll wait!
Okay. We’ll wait. What choice do we have? This was the beginning and the first lesson in Catania – don’t freak out. Wait, because you’re the one who wants to stay at my place. No hard feelings towards you – I just put myself first, that’s all.
So Giuseppe arrived, very slowly, in flip-flops. I think he had a bit of wine on his breath – he gave us the keys, smiled, and drove off. And that’s how we started discovering the Sicilian mentality.
I won’t write about the views of Etna. You can’t, because you have to see it, and any attempt at describing it would be a clumsy attempt to imitate God. Besides – everyone will experience it differently, just like everyone’s cup of perfect coffee will taste unique.
The bus to Taormina was supposed to leave at 14:00, but the driver (again Giuseppe – unbelievable!) arrived at 13:30 and decided we’d go at 13:30 because if we waited any longer, more people would show up, and his air conditioning wasn’t working, so it would get too hot.
- But Giuseppe, people are buying tickets for this route, what about them?
- I don’t understand – he replied, offended – there will be another one!
And off we went, glancing at the unsuspecting line at the ticket booth. But there will be another one, and even if there’s not – tomorrow is another day. And if there’s no tomorrow, then really – there was nothing to worry about, right?
Right. Because there’s only one truth, though everyone has their own. There’s also only one Etna, and everyone has their own too. Mine was a wild run down the crater to the amazement of strolling tourists and a fascination with the still-steaming rocks – years after the eruption. And a dream of flying over it – which partly came true the day before yesterday when I passed my paramotor pilot’s exam. Coming down from the volcano, we wanted a drink, but in a store of over 100m2 and several walls of refrigerators, we couldn’t find cold drinks – only wine and cheese. We mimed our needs to the shop assistant, who led us to a cooler the size of carry-on luggage, from which, with great reverence, I retrieved a cold Mountain Dew. As I raised it above my head, angelic choirs began to sing hymns of praise.
We also chatted with a young kid who, due to his school age, could speak some English. We told him we were from Poland, to which he replied:
- Cool.
He had absolutely no idea where that was. I could see it in his eyes. I envied him for it. After a brief conversation, we said goodbye and wished him a pleasant siesta, because it seemed like that was the time of day (August, if I remember correctly). To which he, with total pity in his eyes, looked at us and said:
- Dude. I’m from Sicily. I have a siesta all day, every day.
That’s why we don’t deserve Sicily, although it should be mandatory for every citizen of Earth. Although “mandatory” in this context is a strong exaggeration 🙂
And coffee? We’ll talk about coffee another time. Just relax.
matt