Girl's a creature of habit, destructive and benign. There are a vast array of cafes in this Sicilian city, but I spent about half an hour (getting hilariously lost, despite my googlemaps app) searching out the Comis Ice Cafe.
Their latte di mandorla is lovely. Not too sweet, divine nutty texture, little chunks of ice lending it a granita-esque feel...There's a nice fountain in the Piazza and an opera house to my right. I already have the internet password. Knowing the internet password makes me feel like an insider, and I appreciate anything that makes me feel like I belong.
Girl's got Sicily's secrets. Comis Ice Cafe's password is stored in my macbook pro. Win.
I take the bus from Catania's main bus station to Avola at 11:30. My next host will pick me up from Piazza Vittorio Veneto next to the fountain of the tre leoni.
I'm going to miss Catania. Staying in a city for a mere three days isn't enough for this long term traveler to truly get her fill. But Sicily is the last place in which I'll be spending such a short period of time. I fly to Barcelona on the 3rd and Rotterdam on the 16th.
And I fly to Colorado on the 28th. One month from today. By the time I reach Grand Junction, I'll have been on the road for 16 months. I don't even know how to feel about that. It's a long time. Ummm... accomplished? Dog-tired? Inspired? Broke? Rich? Blurgh.
My last full day in Catania was perfect. It was one of those days that I'm going to store in my memory bank of exquisite moments of human connection and think back on whenever I feel lonely or out of place.
Luca was my second and final host in Sicily's party city (the only European city with more pubs than Catania is Dublin). I trundled down to the train station, groaning and grumbling under Ellie's ample, bulging pockets and stood outside to await the arrival of Luca.
12:00 came.
12:00 went.
As I've been consistently left waiting on roadsides and in front of train stations for Italians on this trip, I assumed that Luca would follow suit.
This is Sicily.
But Luca did not follow suit. Luca arrived at exactly 12:04 and apologized profusely for the four minutes I stood waiting.
"It's only four minutes!" I laughed.
Only Dutch people apologize for four minutes. I don't believe this fellow is Sicilian. He's a Dutchman in disguise.
Luca presented me with a yellow sticky note with a smiley face drawn on.
"It would say, "welcome to Catania", but you've already been here a few days. So you get a smiley face."
These are the little gifts I adore. Sticky notes with smiley faces. Adorable gestures that demonstrate the person is happy to see me.
Luca's English was impeccable and it felt so refreshing to hear him rattle off stories about Catania and his life without having to strain to understand an accent. I smiled the moment we met and I think the entire day together was spent laughing/smiling/moaning over cheese and sundried tomatoes/gasping at the beauty of Mount Etna.
"This is my car. Her name is Marlin."
"This is my backpack. Her name is Ellie."
"You name your things too?"
"Yup. It gives them personality."
First order of business was to hunt down a refreshing drink. As mentioned earlier, Sicily is the hottest region of Italy, and yesterday was perfect anecdotal proof of this phenomenon.
"Lime and salt," Luca said as he handed me my drink. "Cheers."
Lime, salt and water. Basta. This is enough to lift anyone's spirits regardless of how sweltering the heat may be. And many Sicilians were queuing up to get their spirits lifted on this caldo, caldo, tropo caldo day.
Then we walked. And talked. Luca apologized for talking so much and I yelled at him.
"No! please, keep going. It's so nice to have conversation like this. It's been such a long time since I've been able to connect with someone this easily."
He told me stories of the city. How it was shaken and shattered by an earthquake in 1693 and devoured by Etna's lava and ash in 1669.
"All these buildings are from the 18th century," he waved at the beautiful baroque buildings lining the street. "Before Etna erupted in 1669, the Amenano river flowed through the city. But it was covered with ash and lava, so now runs underground. This is the only place you can see the Amenano."
"They leave and we starve," Luca moaned.
We searched in vain for half an hour. Then we returned to Marlin.
"You need to believe, Aimee. Do you believe?"
"I believe. I definitely believe."
"Good. And we need this song," he pressed a few buttons and "Small Town Girl" started blaring through the speakers.
We drove down the streets of Catania, bellowing "can't stop believing," and eyes peeled for a place to eat.
Finally, finally, we found a cafe open by the sea. Luca ordered brioche and chocolate granita. I ordered gelso (mulberry) granita.
"We have a lot of mulberries in Colorado," I pondered as I savored the frozen fruit, "but we don't do much with them. I have no idea why."
Dear Colorado,
Mulberries. They're delicious. Eat them more often.
Sincerely,
-Aimee
"No, I didn't get the chance. I've only seen Taormina and the city center of Catania"
"Do you want to see Etna?"
"Yes. Yes, I would LOVE to see Etna."
"Okay. We'll get a coffee on Etna. But first we go to my loft, leave your bag and I change my shirt."
Luca lives in a loft on the third floor of an apartment in a village just outside Catania. He has a perfect view of Etna from his roof and the inside of his apartment is 100% charming.
I could happily stay here for a very, very long time.
"Here are the rules of my loft," Luca took out another yellow sticky note with four lines written on it. "Just so we get along better during your stay. First," he pointed, "what's mine is yours. Take anything from the fridge, if you want to watch any of my DVDs... Second, the roof," I looked up at the slanted ceiling and smiled. "If you hit your head, don't curse at me. I warned you. Third, the bathroom. This is the water heater and this is the light. Make sure the water heater is always down. Unless you are taking a shower. Fourth, the... "
I can't remember the fourth. But I'm pretty sure I didn't break it, because Luca and I got along famously.
Luca then introduced me to the stuffed animals around the house. A penguin, a crocodile, several mice, a pig, a turtle and a dragon named Eros (to name a few).
I want a dragon named Eros...
"I used to sleep on a tarp named Judy and have picnics with a knife named Betty," I said after the introductions were made.
But now I only have a headlamp named Larry and a backpack named Ellie. Luca totally wins at the naming of inanimate objects.
We climbed into Marlin and headed off to have our cappuccino on Etna. After a few breaks (to give dear Marlin a breather), we arrived at the end of the road (one can't actually drive to the top of Etna -- one must take an expensive gondola or commit to a rather long hike).
"It's stunning."
I didn't have a lot of words. Etna is the first active volcano I've ever seen, and it completely blew me away to witness the powerful ways in which it shaped (blew up) the surrounding landscape. Words felt meaningless. Wonder stripped me of my words and left me incoherently murmuring "wow" and "I just..."
Luca was the perfect person with whom to see Etna. He's the kind of fellow who lets his life be full of wonder and surprise. He lets his life be full of stuffed animals with names and mornings spent on his rooftop, writing songs and gazing at Etna.
These are the kind of people I want around. The childish wondering ones.
Luca prepared three cheese plates last night. Parmesan, mozzarella di buffala and... provolone? Sundried cherry tomatoes, carrots, walnuts, olives, prosciutto and dried sausage accompanied the cheese. Sicilian red wine was poured.
About a billion and a half laughs, smiles, moans and happy dances later, I found myself in bed.
I feel refreshed. I'm kind of nervous about how angry my psoriasis will be in the morning... what with all that wine and coffee... but today was just so good. I wanted to enjoy every bit.
I felt perfect in the morning. No pain in my back. My scalp was no worse than usual. My heart was light in the very best of ways.
Maybe all I needed was a day of laughter with Luca.
Before I left his loft (I never did stop banging my head against the ceiling) and bid farewell to Eros and the gang, Luca presented me with a small jar (miniscule jar) of Nutella. A souvenir to remember him by.
"One of the only other real souvenirs I have left is a teaspoon I stole from a hostel during my hitchhiking adventure with Tessa."
"So, this is perfect! Now you have a teaspoon and Nutella."
Maybe all I needed was some nutella for my teaspoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment