Sicilia La Mia Prima Volta - Sicily My First Time

Sicily greeted me with a warm hug last evening when I emerged from the airport with all of my belongings colorfully packaged in what one flight attendant in the United States described my Betsyville luggage as - "psychedelic." Yes, three suitcases - a girly girl to the core, I packed two changes of outfits per day for my Sicilian adventure. I must admit Imelda Marcos and I do have a lot in common when it comes to shoes, and I did not let her memory down packing at least a dozen flats, low heels, sneakers and just romp around the hotel shoes to match every outfit for all occasions. Oh, I cannot forget the cute little bags, sun hats (per the advice of my friend Pat Russo) and other accessories I don't want to get into right now.

Okay, now back to my Hug. The hug was nice, but when I met Palermo, he greeted me with a rough kiss right on the smacks. Rugged, more than bit worn, Palermo was gruffy, but yet something so very intriguing and attractive about him.

I am in my fifth year of studying Italian and while I wish I had the time to study this language of romance and love daily or for that matter weekly, I got my first lesson in speaking the language, understanding it and still getting confused when I picked up my baggage or in Italiano baggali.

The elder airport porter told me in Italian that I needed to go to another location to pick up my luggage because I came on an International flight. Perfectly understanding what he said. I replied. "Senor, Io so, perche I sono arrivata Alitalia volo 1793 ed io bisogno prendere i miei baggali da qui." (Sir, I know because I arrived Alitalia air flight 1793 and I need to take my luggage from here). He looked at me like I had two heads and repeated more loudly, "Non!" He then stated where I must go again. This went on for about two minutes and I finally said to myself, "Yvonne, Idiot just listen to the old man, he works here!" As soon as I came out of my stage of stupidness, I heard the old man say, "Listen/Ascolti Signorina" and I did.

I just learned when you go to Sicily from the U.S., you must pick up your bags from another location. It's simply because you are not a local. So, I got my bags and took it through security, but there was no customs check. Just like Charles DeGaulle airport in Paris, you just walk into the country and presto you are there. It is interesting France and now Sicily is this way. Perhaps they know something we do not know in terms of safety and security.

The driver was waiting for me with my name printed on the sign. He brought a rather big van to pick me up. Maybe someone hinted at him that I would have three bags and a laptop. Anyway, another thing I learned really quickly about Sicily is there are less English speakers and the automatic is Italian. The driver spoke no English and so we talked. I told him it was my first time to Sicily La mia prima volta a Sicilia and I was really looking forward to having great fun. He laughed and told me I would have what I ever I wanted to find. Typical as most drivers do, he began to give me his version of the on-the-way to the hotel tour.

We had some confusion about the Mediterranean sea, but other than that he told me about Massimo Piazza, Giovanni Francione, le Montagne etcetera. I think he was teasing me when he began to tell me a story about the Mafia in the mountains and a bomb. I listened with much enthusiasm because this is exactly the type of stories I want to hear, but I was thinking he thought I might be a bit intimidated. Well maybe?

When we arrived to Hotel Joli he told me to hold onto la mia borsa (my purse) and be on the look out. Hotel Joli is a corner hotel definitely built during the days when elevators were as big as an airline bathroom, give or take 1 meter-3 feet. If you are a romantic, an elevator this tight would make you want to french kiss your lover, husband or boyfriend until you reach the 5th floor or if you are claustrophobic, you are opting to take the stairs because you will scream "Get me out of here!"

With the exception of taking my bags to my room, I have decided to take the stairs for the exercise everytime I return to the hotel. My room is small, but very cute. I am going through news junkie DTs because there is NO CNN International or BBC. Just Italiani Canale all of the way. For me this is okay because I can continue to practice listening and comprehending the language. No diss to Berlusconi's channels, but a good number of the stuff on Rai La Tele is really strange - the game shows at least in my opinion.

Dinner last night was fresh pasta with eggplant and marinara with some chicken and a salad. After dinner was a hot shower and bed.

I woke up at 3 a.m. and was so wide awake...I called Tim Janis (www.timjanis.com) to see about our trip to Kenya. He is cutting his new CD and recording 4,000 Kenyan children on his great new song. The trip is all set and I will go with him to work. Cannot wait to visit President Obama's extended family's country in the near future. Of course by me writing this perhaps some Birthers might lift this quote and twist it to mean I said Kenya was the President's home country.

Breakfast at the hotel was so so. I finished that quickly and hit the streets in my running shoes and workout gear for a 90 minute power walk by the ports and all over Palermo walking in any direction I chose too. I was tired by the end of the walk. During the walk, the smell of the stench of a dirty city along the portways reminded me of New York City - horse dung, piss and garbage.

This part of Sicily is disappointing, but a part of me feels that Palermo is like a forgotten step child to his ruling brother Roma. A beautiful people, they are proud -why is it that the South gets put into a category of a seemingly developing country in many ways? This is a reason I am attracted to him - Palermo. It is because of his struggle, his identity from his past - being invaded by the Moors/Berbers, Arabs, Greeks and the French - he had to fight to protect himself from their influence and harm. Palermo is a mutt - a mixture of all of these unwanted parents - he emerges so beautiful, bronzedurra (bronze) - so full of passion and some rage in his eyes. He is mystical.

After my Siesta, I showered again and donned my first planned outfit with flats. A colorful top and camel colored maxi skirt fitted me just so. I had lunch about 3 p.m. at a small cafe-al bar - a panino and salad. I took one of my PhD articles to read. I will commence my research for my doctorate sometime in the fall - so I took about 9 articles with me to read while on the trip.

A cute Senora in a fitted red dress cussed out her boss calling him every Italian swear you can imagine at the top of her lungs and was not at all embarassed. You see Sicilians and African Americans have something in common, they can cuss out anyone to the ground and be proud of it and she was too. She got her black Furla bag and twisted right out of that shop and did not think twice about doing any more work. He of course tried his best to fight back with his mouth, but lost that hands down. No one can tell off like a Siciliana sistah!

It is getting dark now and I promised myself I would not be out out. Besides, I am al little bit lost so I need to find my way back to my hotel. I will have Cena/dinner near the hotel. My first day was mellow, but oh so relaxing.

I have to wait a few more minutes before I leave because the guy who owns the Cafe is Muslim and the Azan is now playing so he went to pray in the back. I will pay him quickly when he comes back and dash back. He calls me sister. I spoke Arabi to him mixed with Italian. Great combination. Tomorrow is Ramadan and I am fasting with my brothers and sisters of Islam on the first day.

Time to go. Ciao i miei amici.