The World Cup

Unless you have been sleeping under a rock, you probably have heard about the world cup by now. You have most likely seen Zinedine Zidane's headbut of Marco Materazzi at the end of overtime in the final match. At the time I wrote this post, the date was July 5th...and I had no idea at the time that Italy would be the crowned soccer champions of the world.





7/5/2006


This year's world cup of soccer is being played in Germany. I'll have to be honest. I'm not the biggest soccer fan. My soccer experience was 4 years as a kid in the house leagues. My position was left fullback. This is a defense position where I am supposed to prevent the ball from going into our goal. To be honest, I was more likely to play with more mounds of dirt when I took the field rather than a soccer ball.

But the thing about the world cup is that everyone in the world stops shooting their guns, taking their hostages, persecuting would-be terrorists and watches the tele. This year is no exception. I have become a soccer fanatic. Back home, I get up at 6 AM Pacific time just to watch Iran play Mexico.

Italy is addicted as well. At the time of this journal entry, they are playing the semi-final match against Germany. I've watched Italy beat Ghana, the Czech Republic and Australia. Everyone in Italy watches. Shopkeepers, Street Sweepers, and Bus Drivers alike - you name it, they watch it. In some towns, every store will close for 2 hours as little TV's glow across the land. In other towns, large TV Screens are illuminated and as many as 300 people watch on a given screen at a given time.

I do not know whom to root for. Italy? The country I am traveling in right now or Germany? The host country. Who knows? I am rooting for soccer - the bringer of peace, the bringer of madness...for even a short while. Play ball!

Italian Intimacy

There's a joke that goes something like this:

A boy and his dad are talking one day and the boy asks the question:
"Dad, what's the difference between heaven and hell?"

The father thinks for a minute, and then begins to answer.

Heaven is when:

• The cars are German
• The Food is French
• The Police are British
• The lovers are Italian
• ...and everything is run by the Swiss.

Hell is when:

• The cars are French
• The food is British
• The police are German
• The lovers are Swiss
• ....and everything is run by the Italians

For every stereotype, there is an ounce of truth. Although many Italian workers are inefficient, the Italian passion runs strong. It is most likely true that they probably make love better than most, but the passion and love I am speaking of is subtler.

For example, Traveling Lisa asks if her bra may be showing. I respond to her, "Just show off your Bra". It doesn't matter. Italian breasts are more prevalent than Gelato stands. Women's midriffs are more common than a double espresso. Italy is simply the land of romance and intimacy. You may be thinking to yourself, are all Italians promiscuous? Absolutely not. They simply just like to be comfortable.

For instance, it is totally normal for a rich, Italian girl to strike up a conversation with a poor boat worker. It's perfectly normal for the highway tollbooth agent to talk with a man in a BMW for 10 minutes in the middle of rush hour traffic. The reason is intimacy. Italians do intimacy better than anyone. We see it at Gaia's house - people from all walks of life talk to each other. There are no jocks, nerds, stoners, freaks, goons, band geeks or skater crowds. Everyone is the same. Everyone has respect for one another. Italians are simply closer to one another. They take hours out of their day to eat lunch. No one comes back to them and asks them how many minutes they took on their lunch break. Tranquillo, I hear. That's just how they roll.

The 4th of July

...And who the hell cares? We are thousands of miles away from your USA. No one here is sympathetic to your Boston Tea Party, your Battle of Yorktown, and Your Declaration of Independence. This is Italy. We had discovered indoor pluming, had a huge empire, painted on ceilings and even had a few crusades before you were even in diapers. So get on the boat like everyone else, drink a coffee, and buzz off.

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Sorrento to Positano

And away we go boat bound to Positano. We have left Sorrento with neither fond nor terrible memories. Nothing against the costal mainland town, but seeing a swarm of sweaty Brits talking about swimming isn't my idea of a good time. Traveling Lisa seems to agree with me. For every great party, there is a terrible hangover. Sorrento has been our hangover. We arrived here from Stromboli Island via Naples and Sorrento has been just good enough. It's a layover town on the hopes to get to your final destination. There are long streets filled with souvenir shops, Laundromats, and money exchange houses. The city trolley tour bus passes by every ten minutes. It feels more like Disneyland than Italy. They do have nice purple tiled bathroom floors. I'll be sure to send all the English pub owners in Sorrento my best the next time I come around.

Two People

This blog concentrates on two people living in different places, having different occupations, but sharing the same love that all Italians seem to possess. They are both humble, friendly and caring. Although they live hundreds of miles from one another, they both represent how much love Italian people have for one another.


Angela



We pull up to the Villa Refe in Linguaglossa. At this time we do the usual "Bon Giorno" and other salutations as Angela answers off the intercom. She tells us rooms are available and shows us around for a little bit.
A brief description:

• Short Grandmotherly type
• Has relatives in the USA
• Takes in Ferrell cats and dogs on a regular basis.
• Likes their guests to keep making babies.

Angela is our reference point in Linguaglossa. She tells us information on everything between cemetaries, Mount Etna, Jeep Tours and how to grow various herbs. She is a wealth of information: How useful this information is, I am not so sure. She makes a good cafe' con leche, as she has spent time in Latino countries. All in all, she is a grandma you would love to visit for 2 days tops.


Pino (pee - no) from Stromboli



What else can I say other than the fact that he is legendary. The guy makes gourmet meals while smoking a pipe. He looks like a retired, gray-haired drunken sailor. But what he does in the kitchen is something that dreams are made of.

He moved to Stromboli island more than ten years ago from Trieste - an Italian city in the northeast. Pino tells us about how his father took him fro Trieste to Stromboli when he was a child. Pino liked it so much that he said goodbye to his job up North and set sail south to the island. His dream was to open up a restaurant. Years later, Al Gechi is the restaurant that fulfills his dreams. You hike up a slight hill as the Burmese boy and the signs tell you where to go. When you get to the restaurant, you are overlooking the entire sea high on the island. No one could even paint a better picture.

So Pinot scampers out in his linen button-down, blue shorts and boat shoes and begins the conversation. There is no menu, no prices, only the conversation. A typical conversation goes like this.

Pino: "What would you like this evening?"
Us: "Um..."
Pino: "I have an antipasto..marinated swordfish..you would like?"
Us: "Um..ok"
Pino: "I also have linguini with tuna fish tonight. you would like?"
Us: "Um..ok"
Pino: "How about wine. You need wine. Red would be good, yes?"
Us: "Sure"
Pino: "Ok, I go to work now for you"

So Pino climbs down into his kitchen basement and goes to work. He and his family run the entire operation. He is married to a striking Burmese woman, most likely 20 years his younger. They have a son named Andrea, whose goal is to show peole the way, collect the bill, and play with his penis. We catch the boy red handed as he handles our check.

Pino met his wife while on his 3-year trip to Asia. He wanted to learn about Asian cooking. He admires Thai and Indian food. It shows in his dishes as you sometimes seem to taste some coriander and turmeric along with the usual basil, parsley and olive oil staples.

For desert, he gives us Gelato and watermelon. He gives me a piece of watermelon so big that it could feed a whole summer camp. We have all eaten well. There is no rush whatsoever as we have the table for the night. At some point, the wife is so busy that the Nanny comes and helps serve. Miles Davis comes on in the background as the sun sets. The place gets busy and they seem to forget about the check. It doesn't matter, we have nowhere to go. Finally, Pino comes out to give us the check. We pay and thank him for a thuroughly good meal. We see him the next day and buy him a eer. That is what Italians are at their best: warm, friendly, and thirsty. I say good luck to Mr. Pino. May good fortune come to him and his family.

Just Say No

Today's blog revolves around one word: No. It is a word recognized in almost every country. It has only two letters, but its meaning is powerful. No represents the absence of something, the opposite of yes, and in many cases - talks about the negative.

Italians seem to be in love with the word No. I am NOT saying that Italians are negative people. I think that they love to communicate in any way they possibly can. so if one does not know the language, local Italians resort to No to convey their meaning.

Examples:

1. In Linguaglossa (a small Sicilian town), I go into a restaurant and ask for a glass of wine. His reply: "No vino! Restorante!" He did not think he was being negative. However, he wanted to make sure I got the message.

2. In the Linguaglossa cemetary, as written about here , the groundskeeper kept shouting a given year followed by the word - "No". He did this for each year in which he could not find the name in question. Again, the keeper is not a bad person, he simply needs to get his point across.

3. When I drive on a freeway, I am a person who always questions if they are going in the right direction. In Italy, they have solved this problem, by posting the name of a city with a big red dot going through it. See the example below:














If you ask an Italian, this road sign means "Florence, No!". The highway workers are no mad at you. They just want to remind you that you may be going the wrong way.

So, if you are in a situation where you just cannot get your point across, just yell "No!" followed by your favorite adjective. Italians everywhere will be utterly thankful.

Stromboli: 7/3-7/5

We reach Stromboli. It looks like an Island a little bit lost, looking for its place in the sun. From the Sicilian Mainland town of Milazzo, we pass by the other islands: Volcano, Lipari and Panarea similar to how a young child may pass over the spinach to get right to the ice cream. On the top of Stromboli lies the most active volcano in Europe. Let me tell you about our story of our trip up to the volcano.







So they say you should start walking at 5:30 and you should go with a guide. We take the advice and go with the trekking company called magmatrek. Here are the materials we would need to hike the volcano:
Helmet (1950's construction worker edition)
Head lamp
Hiking shoes
Change of clothes




All of the travel books said that this would be a moderate hike. They couldn't have been more wrong. By the time we had reached the top of the crater, we had been walking for almost 4 hours on a steep uphill. David, our guide, is nice enough. He works at both Stromboli and on Mount Etna guiding tours. He shows us the observatory that records seismic data of earthquakes and volcano eruptions. The last major eruption in Stromboli with lava flow was in 2002. It killed hundreds of people and caused tidal waves 40 feet high. Usually, lava flow is restricted to what is called the Sciara del fuoco (literal = street of fire). Indeed the crators of Stromboli fire up almost constantly as they pass down this pathway called Sciara del fuoco. It's a path on the island where all lava and pumice flows from the crater down to the base of the island into the sea. This cycle of eruption->lava flow-->sea happens constantly. If little eruptions do not happen all the time, gasses become trapped for extended periods of time and eventually will explode just like the button on your way too tight jeans if you try to put them on.



Sitting up at 3000 feet, I gaze out to the show that is about to begin. Someone forgot to tell me that the 4th of July came early. It turns out that over the past ten years or so, 5 smaller craters have been formed at the top of the summit. Each one of these craters erupts every 10 minutes or so. It makes old faithful look like your neighbor's broken down sprinkler system.

So we watch the show. Orange and red and yellow lava spew out the top in rapid fashion. It disperses mid-air and drops down into ash some 300 meters safely away from us. It is truly amazing. You can imagine the lava chambers filling up with magma and gasses until it can confine it no longer. With fireworks that seem to last forever, and the setting sun giving away in the background, it's hard to imagine anything more beautiful.





Travelling Lisa and Travelling Toby manage to get some pictures and video footage. Teresa is so moved, she starts to cry. I look at it similar to how one looks at a campfire late at night. I have no idea what this means, but I'd though I'd put one more metaphor out there.

The downhill descent is by no means easy. We are given masks to wear, which will all prevent us from breathing in too much sulfur dust. We walk down a black, sandy hardened lava field as I am instructed to put on my hed lamp and helmet. I can barely see the person 3 feet in front of me. While also coulding my night vision, the lava dust begins to clog my hiking shoes. Pebbles begin to feel like boulders as the rocks fill up the open space - jarring at my ankles with an exacto knife.

After 15 minutes, we finally clear the lava fields and are allowed to dump out the rocks. I'm not as scuffed up as I thought. The whole experience reminds me of skiing down Beaver Bowl at Alpine Meadows ski resort: Big, wide and full of rocks.

We get back into Stromboli town at 11 PM. We are dog tired. We muster enough energy to eat Pizza and go to bed. Every step was worth it. They call really active volcanoes "Eruption Stromboli". Now I can see why. It is the greatest show on earth.

The Merenda Code

6/28 - in the morning.

Our Mission: To find the gravestone of one great-grandfather of Teresa Merenda. It is believed that he is buried in the Linguaglossa cemetary.





Our First step is to the cemetary. Make a right on the main road and proceed 1/2 mile until you reach the cemetary entrance.
As we get there, we notice there are 2 cemetaries: the old one and the new one. We walk through the old cemetary and find old murals of Arabia. We see the crescent and some sort of dome resembling Mecca. We continue on our journey through the old cemetary.

We notice that this could be the most ornate cemetary I have ever seen. Francesco, Conceto, Angela, Rosa and the others are lying in the tombs and are making me proud. Not only are the grave stones decorated with statues, they have portraits of themselves in black and white when they were younger.

Our next mission is to find the groundskeeper for the cemetary. We have no idea where he is, but I peel my eyes out for two old ladies. They seem suspicious. I go over to confront them about our mission.
-----
The 2 white haired ladies look at me as if I just landed my spaceship. I'm sorry I don't know Italian or French, I'm just a regular USA guy that knows some chicano Spanish.

My undercover skills tell me that the groundskeeper is on his way back. Sure enough, he arrives walking up the steps Espresso in hand. We exchange pleasantries and he asks me what is going on. I come out with it. We want to find the gravestone of one Mr. Merenda or Papalardo. Popalardo being the maiden name of Grandma. The groundskeeper shows me of a couple of books.

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A che anno morto? What year did he die. I look to Teresa and she does not know the exact year.

"Well if he was born in 1880, that means he robably died somewhere between 1930 and 1940, since he was roughly 50 years old when he died." - she says.

The groundskepper now loks at me with a slightly more confusing look than he did before. I translating the above bit to him, as he starts scribbling years like this.

1880, 1910, 1930, 1940

With each number, the groundskeeper gets more and more irritated.
"Anno!" (year), the grounds keeper says.
"Oh, between 1930-1940" I translate.
"Anno!"
"um.......1943?"

He opens the book. I say "Merenda".
He waves me off as he looks at the names in it like a Rabbi would do with a Torah.
"1943..." He searches..."no 1943!" "Anno!" - he exclaims again.
"Hm...1935?" I try another year
The grounds keeper does the same ritual with no luck.

1935...No 1935! Anno!
1936...No 1936! Anno!
Anno!
Anno! Stupido! Anno!
Anno!

I was left to believe that this was the groundskeeper's mantra. At this time, all of his buddies were in the room trying to figure out just what the hell was going on.





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I feel so helpless. The groundskeeper turns to his buddies for a moment. At this point I thought we were all dead for sure. The keeper (short for groundskeeper) pulls out a pen and a piece of paper and writes down the following:
COMUNE DI LINGUAGLOSSA
BARONE FRANCESCO

In all caps to, yo...like a psychopath.

The keeper seems happier now, as all of the buddies seem to share our desire to find Teresa's long, lost relative. They bid us goodbye and send us away.

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Step 2: The Comune Di Linguaglossa



The city hall. You would not believe this place. Usually, you go to a city hall in the USA and they give you the runaround. In Linguaglossa, they are all about customer service. We find our man Barone, and try to explain ourselves. Of course, he speaks no English. We however get through the translation that his buddy next door can pull up birth certificates.

Since I have forgotten Barone's buddy's name, I will call him certificate guy or "Certguy" for short. Certguy is amazing. Based on the info we give him, he goes back and finds the following certificates.

A picture of Barone



A picture of CertGuy


Francesco Merenda - Born in Linguaglossa, moves to New york - Teresa's grandfather.

Antonio Merenda - Also born in Lingua...moves to New york for a bit, then comes back. Died in Catania, Italy. This is Teresa's Granfather's brother.

There are some other distant relatives - phillipe and another antonio.

There is also Phillipa (Phillipe's wife). She supposedly still lives in Linguaglossa on one road called Via Marconi. After some initial investigation work, Toby locates the street. We are also given the number 44. This is the house where Phillipa lives.

We ring the bell several times but to no avail. They are not home. But even if they were...
a) it's probably NOT her anyways as she is most likely dead, OR
b)even if it was her, we would have no ideas as to what she way saying.

Travelling Toby takes some more pictures of the street and house as well as the documents. It will make only the finest of scrapbooks.

========================

Conclusions:

1. We know that Teresa had some grandarents and great uncles - and we know that they lived in Linguaglossa at some point.

2. Cemetary groundskeepers are slack workers. The guy has no problems locating names.

3. City hall of Linguaglossa puts the USA ones to shame. Their generosity is overwhelming.

4. The Italians love to gossip as much as we do....and they love a juicy story - real or fiction.

5. We meet the mayor of Linguaglossa. He wears a suit and sketchers. He laughs at my shoe joke. Had I joked with President Bush about his shoes, I would have been swatted, patted down and have had my rights read to me in a matter of seconds.

6. Toby likes to take pictures. No man, woman, child or document is safe. To his defense, the Italians LOVE it. We have more pictures of Italian people than most family albums in Italy.

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As William Shakespeare once said: "All's well that ends well." At this late hour, I hope you understand. Of course there is more to come. Soon, I promise. Keep on a movin....

Travelling Sherman

Mt. Etna

As our Ford Fiesta races up the north side of the base of Mt. Etna, so too comes the Town of Linguaglossa. A small town of no more than 50,000 people it is the pit stop on the way to the volcano. We stop by the train station and ask about accomodation for the evening. The Church processional and bingo games are occupying the day of most townfolk. The station agent tells us there is a pensione called the Villa Refe just up the street. We decide to have a look.

Maria greets us right at the gate. Her starched blue dress and her messy brown hair remind me of the traditional Latin mother: generous, happy, and kind-hearted. I'm glad to find out that she speaks Spanish fairly well, so we get along with conversation just fine. We find out that she has two sons that work on the grounds and one uncle in Chicago.
She shows us the rooms and all is fine. Angela keeps harping on breakfast at 8. Fair enough. In the swealtering heat, what else are you going to do.




6/28
The next morning we take in breakfast with fresh oj and cafe con leche. The black and white cat stares at us with strange intentions. Lisa gets all freaked out and decides to feed her some milk from the table. Angela later scares the cat away with her booming voice. There's no way I would ever break curfew with this one.

(6/28 in the afternoon)
Today's quest is Mt. Etna. Roughly 3300 feet, it's an active volcano. We drive up in our lawn mower of the car before we reach Piano Provenzana - the last town where cars can travel. We take a 4 wheel drive bus up the mountain, as the wheels are larger than our rental car. The ride proves to be bumpier than Space Mountain.

This was the car:














Mt. Etna fun facts:



It is an ACTIVE volcano. This means that this volcano erupts frequently. How frequently, this is up to you. There have been almost ten major eruptions in the last 100 years. The last big one was in the summer of 2002. Eight tourists died. It was a lateral eruption - spewing out from its sides rather than the top.

There are 25 crators fromed on the north side, 5 on the south side. But can you tell me how many crators are found on uranus?



The lava in the 2002 eruption reached over 7 km. long. It knocked out more than 30 homes and the town of Piano Provenzana . It almost knocked out Linguaglossa, but the park service managed to stop the lava flow 3 kilometers from town.

The lava would have buried a person 20 feet deep.

The 2002 eruption also created a collapse in the Volcano - 40 meters long and 15 meters wide. Travelling Lisa tells me this is similar to how when the roof of a pie collapses when taken out of the oven - due to gasses.

The crators are strangely colored - the colors representing different minerals. white = sulfur; black = bassalt; gray = magnesium; red = oxidised (rusted) rock.

Lisa explains to me about igneous rocks. They are created by volcanoes. Volcanoes erupt when magma gets lifted up from opening in a crust.

Volcanoes are usually caused by earthquakes.

Travelling Sherman asks more dumb questions. Lisa tells me I ask the same questions that her 12 year old students used to ask - including the autistic one named Patrick.

Toby likes post cards and view finders. He has 2 dozen at home.

The pizza shop at Etna reminds me of my 4th grade cafeteria experience.
............
Overall, Mt. Etna is a great trip. A must for anyone who goes to Sicily...

Terrasini and Gaia - 6/26

Back to another installment of Travelling Sherman.
This post brings us to a town called Terrasini. Terrasini is a small town located just outside of Palermo. We are brought here by our friend Gaia. Gaia is an architect originally from Sicily, whom we had befriended here in San Francisco almost two years ago. Thanks to Travelling Toby's legwork, we manage to meet Gaia in Sicily and get a chance to meet her family and friends.

This is Gaia:




A new mode of travel has emerged for us: the car. Toby, Christoph and myself go into Palermo to the rental car shop. After some haggling about, we rent a beautiful Ford Focus. You can probably fit 3 of these cars inside one SUV. A couple of things to note about Cars and driving in Italy:

• All cars are stick shift.
• There are lane markings on some of the roads in Italy, but it's only reccomended, not enforced.
• Do not drive in the left lane, unless you manage to go at least 100 miles per hour.
• Honking horns are strongly encouraged

We drive out with Gaia to Terrasini, where her mom lives during the summer. Originally she is from Mondello, a small beach town just outside Palermo. We drive on the interstate and pass beaches and mountains. Eventually, we turn off on to a side street and stop. "Oh, no..she is going to kill us" - Toby says. In such a remote town like this one, I don't think our bodies would be found until autumn.

We pull up to the house and it is gorgeous. It is a palace. 3+ bedrooms, outside porch, swimming pool, all overlooking the Tyrrhenian sea.



Gaia has 1 sister (Rafaella) and 2 brothers (Fabrizzi and Alessandro).
Gaia has 1 mother named Angela. Her Father, whose name I did not get, is no longer living. From what I get from Gaia, he was an admirable man who was killed by the Mafia.
Gaia has a cousin Marco who is married to Gloria.
Gaia introduces us to 2 different friends: Settimo and Lucca.

I'll try featuring a few of the people of whom I remember as best as possible:

Settimo:


A gay man who enjoys bathing, he prances around with a button down and Speedos wondering whether he will go into the pool. He speaks English very well, and has an opinion about almost everything. He tried to work in the theatre but the Italian economy did not let it be. Now he works for the world's worst airline of Alitalia answering phone calls. I'm thinking about starting up a foundation to get him out of this job.

Lucca:
He is a friend of Gaias who fights the good fight. He sits in his chair smoking his cigarette with his dirty black long hair contemplating the world. Being an unemployed designer, he shakes his fist at the sky for his troubles. Actually a highly intelligent fellow, he goes into the political scandals of Silvio Berlusconni, the old prime minister of Italy. Supposedly there is a saying in italy that goes: "Berlusconni mangare tutti" (he ate the whole thing). Berlusconni took all the profits from the people and have therefore left them with shit.

Speaking of which, I offer this advise to Lucca: "When Life gives you lemons, make lemonade".
To which Lucca responds: "What happens when life gives you shit".
I told him that fertilizer can be used for lots of things. Touche.

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The whole family is more than Generous. Gaia's mom can make vegetable lasagna and pesto pasta for 20 with one hand tied behind her back. I tell her she can move in anytime. Many side conversations emerege. For example, we talk about how Fabrizzi played with Americans from the N.F.L, and that Marco was the European windsurfer champion. It could be all a bunch of bologna but still we are enthralled. Sitting in the Sicilian sun, it doesn't matter. This is paradise. Great food, Good laughs and a blow-up turtle for the swimming pool, nothing could be better.




The next day we saunter out of Terrasini at a slow place leaving for our next destination. We bid Gaia farewell and wish her and her family the best of luck. I hope it's not the last time we see them. We are back on the road. The road to Linguaglossa - the next scavenger hunt. More about that next time.

Until then, keep on travelling....wherever you are





Travelling Sherman

Palermo: 6/24 and 6/25

The last few days have filled out quite well. I have adjusted to the Italian schedule. This usually means waking up later, taking the afternoon nap, and eating dinner no earlier than 10 PM.

Today's story begins at the meat market. No, not that one. To be more exact, the setting is more of a market where just about anything can be sold. Here are some tof the items you can purchase at the Palermo market:
Tuna
Swordfish
Drill Bits
Tomatoes
Earings
Mr. Incredible cell phone
Box wine
Fishing reels
Car stereos




Think of it as Wal-mart without the falling prices.

Here is how it's set up:
Local Sicilian men shout at the top of their lungs advertising their products.
Customers walk down the dirt paths, avoiding the scooters and try to bargain with vendors.
Little kids with overgrown mullets help out by bagging your purchases.

The most amazing thing I saw was the Tuna. After catching it early that morning, they somehow manage to transport it into the market. They then use butcher knives I only dream of having, and cut up squares of fish that are bigger than the human head.



Toby is taking pictures incessantly. Teresa, Christoph [an old friend of Toby's from Germany], and Lisa are holding fruit, while I get overwhelmed in the crowd. After swimming out of the chaos, we walk down the nearby alley and come across a man with 2 dogs: Paulina and Big Balls. Ok, so I don't know the name of the second dog. The owner did say that he had overgrown testicles. Maybe he was just pointing at my testicles - who knows.

We take in lunch at Frigatoria Gastronomia (aka. Fast Food Joint #1). Beware, this is not your everyday fast food. You can get roasted eggplant, fried fish, chicken, tomato sauce, and fresh pizza for roughly $6. It's a feast for the eys and stomach.

We meet Adiana. - She is the waitress most likely in her late 20's. She wears a white t-shirt, Italian jeans, and velcro sneakers. She resembles our friend Teresa. At one point, we even ask if they are related. She nods kindly as to say "OK, just take the picture of me and I'll just smile at whatever you say". Then, she goes back to work in the sauna otherwise known as the Sicilian kictchen.

We then go to a church and a cathedral to take in our fill of Jesus for the day. We happen to catch a wedding in progress. I am waiting for Don Corleone to grace our presence, but he never does.

Palermo is quite a fun city. It is a big city, but it feels much cleaner than Naples. It is split up int (at least) 2 areas: the new city and the old city. The new city has Bennetton. The old city has building much older than Bennetton. It's a city that is put together well. There is one intersection in town called the Quattro Canti. It's an intersection with the most ornate architecture I have ever seen. Most of the statues are an ode to Philip III who ruled sicily in the 1600s, although I'm not sre why. As you look up, it looks like you are actually in a tall room with a large ceiling of statues.

Some other things to note:
We meet a Greek/Sicilian lady that cooks some great meat off the barbie in the middle of town. We take a seat at the adjoining restaurant only to have a 11 year old take our wine order.
It's never too early to have a beer. Toby and Christoph set the pace as I try to desperately follow.
Travelling in Palermo in late June produces temperatures so high your shirt is drenched within seconds.
I have some of the best Pizza in Palermo. The restaurant is overlooked by huge Gothic Churches in the old city.
When you order a Pizza, Italians/Sicilians do not mess around. For $5, you get a Pizza that is deep, cheesy, big and delicioso.

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I am sitting here on a beach in Cefalu' at the moment. The beach is nice. The salt content in the water is high enough you could foat on your back for hours.
Cefalu's main backdrop is called La Rocca (rock). It was first discovered by the Arabs almost 1000 years ago. The Normans, however, kicked them out in the 11th century and moved the whole place down to the beach to catch more waves.

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Christoph decides he wants to go to dinner with an oceanfront view and the sunsetting. He is such the romantic I could cry. Seriously, I am getting in touch with my feminine side. We find a place called Cafe il Saracena. It is a feast for the eyes and stomach. We eat ceviche with mussels, tuna and salmon, local chardonay, and a swordfish pasta with mint. We get to the joint early, so the wait staff loads the juke box with American songs such as Mission Impossible, Elvis Presley theme songs and Jimi Hendrix. When the box set comes out, I will let you know.


(Christoph is on the right)

One thing to note about going out to dinner in Italy, as well as Southern Europe. You better not be in a hurry. For example, back home most restaurants seem to want to shove the bill in front of you right after your last shot of coffee or Jager Meister (depending on your evening). In Italy, you have to do cartwheels in front of them before a waiter thinks to bring you the bill. The only reason I say this is that time passes, and Lisa looks at her watch. We realize we have less than 15 minutes to catch a train miles away. At this point, the Mission Impossible theme music is over, the wait staff is a little more bitter, and I am starting to get a little more impatient. It's similar to when you wake up the next morning after having sexual relations, you are dying to leave but you don't know how to do it gracefully. We finally get the check and beeline it back to the station. Toby is insane as he breaks out in full sprint. Trying to keep up with him is useless as my buddah gut gets the best of me. Dying from exhaustion, we finally make it to the train station only to find out that the train is delayed for 45 minutes.

Toby Sleeps on train after running


What is the moral of the above story. If you are in Sicily and you are running late do not worry. Most likely everyone else on the island is running even later.

More to come.
Travelling Sherman

Naples Sites

Naples is all about the churches. I start scribbling notes on paper like a schoolboy finishing his term paper. I look at my notes and I think to myself, there's a whole lot of church in these notes. So I have decided to keep my notes to a minimum as I try to spare the painstaking details.

1. The Duomo of Naples
For every major Italian city there exists a Duomo. A Duomo is essentially a cathedral. Moreover, it represents the city. Even still, it becomes a great landmark. For example: "Turn left at the Duomo" or "If you pass the duomo, you have gone too far".



For every city there is a duomo. For every Duomo there is a story. Here is where the story begins:

Imagine that you were a person that did good things in life. Imagine you were a person that did good things in life for others. Enter San Gennaro, a Saint - or what I call a "do gooder". This person performed miracles a. lah Jesus Christ. Unfortunately, he was doing such a good job that the rest of the church turned Jealous. Of course, they do what any logical body of authority would do - behead the bastard. So in 305, San Gennaro was beheaded for doing too many good things.
Moral of the story: Good Guys finish last.

Ok, so there's more to it than that. Many years later, his body is brought to Naples to the Duomo. In 1989, there was hemoglobin found in the blood. Hemoglobin is the part of the red blood cells where oxygen was found. When oxygen is found, the blood liquifies. The only problems with this is that our guy Gennaro has been dead for 1500 years. Again, the superstitious people of Naples believe this to be another miracle of St. Gennaro. His blood supposedly liquifies 3 times a year. What a treat.

So if you are wondering what you can do with your body when you pass on, you can
a) be creamated
b) donate your body to science
c)become buried
d)try to have someone see if your blood liquifies. If so, you too may be able to get your owqn chapel and perform miracles...All without lifting a finger, or a bone.

2. Museo Arceologico Nazionale

So this is the big museum of Naples. Its biggest claim to fame is that many of the original statues and relics from the A.D. 79 Pompeii eruption have been stored here. The original statues of Artemis (goddess of hunting) and her bro Apollo (god of light and reason) are stored here. Some of the other big highlights:
*You get to see the famous God with the earth on the back. He is famous for coming up with that slogan "I have the weight of the world on my shoulders"
*A piece of a Meredian line replica the signs of Zodiac. For all of the non DaVinci Code readers, the Prime Meridian line is located in Greenwich, England. The Meridian line was used back in the day to tell time depending on how it was reflected by the sun.
*Sex room. No joke. There is a separate Ancient World of Sex. There are brothel pictures and decorations, sex organ charms, and phallic symbols everywhere. Some of the charmers are a statue of a bull with a penis in his mouth and some good oil on canvas porn of Venus (the love goddess) and Mars (her lover).

3. Napoli Soterranea (Underground Naples)

Beginning 400 feet below, Travelling Lisa and I go to discover Napoli Soterranea, the underbelly of naples. After 3 days in exhausting sickness and stifling heat it's nice to go underground. Yes, today we are venturing underneath the city.


Lisa and I are touring with a humble guide from Poland. She has a good command of the language, and tells us more about the history. We venture underground to find a labyrinth of tunnels and sisterns. The system of tunnels served as old backstage parlors for actors in the ampitheatre above. Years later, it served as an aqueduct for the entire city. And during World War II, it served as a bomb shelter for many. See the engraving of a bomb sketch that is more than 50 years old below --







We hear one story of the Pozatelli. It goes something like this.
Water from rivers and channels flowed under the tunnels and eventually collected into what are called sisterns. The sisterns represented the water supply for a particular region. Think of sisterns like you would think of fire hydrants. They are full of water, and the only people that can use them are studly firemen that women fantasize about.
Enter the Pozatelli. The original woman fantasy. They risked their lives daily to set up ropes and well systems to provide water for the rest of the community. They also would be known to leave presents for women they fancied. They stole from the rich and gave to the poor -- The original robin hoods of our time. They were usually short, and wore long coats to protect them from the elements. As we walk through the sisterns, you see the entrances where the pozatelli had to climb from. Batman had nothing on these guys.





The underground had indeed served as an ampitheatre in its time and so the following is a brief anectdote on Nero - the emperor and performer...
So Naples is the oldest city in Italy. Because of this, Naples had earned much props throughout the region. Many actors which to perform here. In fact, Nero the emperor performed here in AD 79. Honestly, I could care less about his acting. He did however manage a stint of good luck when he forced his audience to stick around after one of his shows. All 3000 of them stayed for a couple of encores while one of the most brutal earthquakes struck the area. Many people in Naples died. However, everyone in the Ampitheatre was saved.




As we leave the underground tour, we say a humble farewell to our tour guide. Looking back as I type this email, there are countless other sites in Naples that we miss...Countless castles and curches, more churches, and probably some more piazzas with jesus. But you get the idea. Naples is rich with history once you scratch its surface. All they need to do now is to work on the smog.

Naples: 6/22-6/23

Naples


The plane is eerily silent as we begin to land. The Bay of Naples comes into view, along with its big brother, Mount Vesuvious. I sense a bit of haze which reminds me that it is going to be a hot day. The captain has reminded us to keep our seat belts fastened. We land in just fine. We grab our bags. We get on with it. We find a taxi as he drives us wrecklessly to our final destination.

This is Naples. Overcrowded streets, light smog, and crazy drivers. However, there emerges some sort of method to the madenss, as everyone is on cue - playing their part. The street vendor is working his bock, the housewife is dumping old water, the motor scooters zig-zag with ease. All I do is watch.



Lisa and I are staying in what is called the Centro Storico District. Otherwise known as the center of town. There is a university here. You know you are close when you see the anarchy symbols, reggae paraphanalia, and flyers to join up with the communist party. We scamper up to the Hotel Pignatelli, ring the bell and talk to Enzo. Enzo seems to be the common name because we confuse Enzo, the hotel man with Enzo, the hair stylist. One is flamboyant, the other one a plain bearded hotel worker.

Southern Italy

Travelling Sherman
Southern Italy

Welcome once again everyone:
The content you are about to read could prove hazardous to your health. For example, it may induce a decrease in productivity at work. It may cause you to laugh out loud in spastic motions. Please, please, please under all circumstances consult a professional before continuing on.

Ok, so anyways. Here goes. Travelling Sherman has gone to Italy once again. This time the focus is on Southern Italy. A quick map.

1. Naples
2. Sicily
*Palermo and surrounding Areas.
*Mt. Etna
*Hunt for Teresa's relatives
*Aeolian Islands
*Amalfi Coast


(Travelling Lisa in background with albino shoulder in foreground)

Enjoy....Keep travelling, wherever you are...

Travelling Sherman