Palermo :Day 1

With stops in Lisbon

and Rome, 

we eventually land in Palermo, just before 10pm to find our driver, Salvatore, waiting for us after we finally locate and retrive our suitcases. When we get outside and, dazed, trundle along after him to the car, we see the moon is full. It is almost an hour later when we arrive at our hotel, Porta Felice, in a narrow street near the bay in the historical part of Palermo. The city seems very dark, making it feel even later than it is. We’re bone tired and are settling into our huge suite, when the receptionist calls up to say we've left a suitcase in the street. Mine! Wow. Then we fuss around for a while to, unsuccessfully, connect to the internet, and then go to sleep, Victor sleeping in splendor next door.

We wake up to a beautiful day, surprised to find it’s already 10am. 

After breakfast on the 4^th floor,

with view over the rooftops and to the surrounding mountains, we head out on an improvised walking tour, taking us past the harbor – with groups of youth just out of school, or apparently with nothing else to do,

and through Villa Giulia, with more of the same,

and onto busy Via Roma, all replete with ancient crumbling buildings. The weather is gorgeous and warm, a huge cerulian sky above us. We have Cappuchinis and dolces in a cute old-school place, and then return to our hotel, where we discover the internet is available if we sit very close to the door or in the corridor outside – this, mind you, in a 4-5 star hotel.
At 3 pm comes Salvatore to pick us up for a short, but heavily trafficked transfer to Monreale, where a guide, Raffaela, is waiting to show us the fabulous Norman cathedral, started by the Norman King William II in 1184, walls covered throughout with Byzantine glass mosaic, which have stood the test of time, and with an elaborate wooden ceiling

Outside it has suddenly got quite chilly, "Never trust the sun this time of year," said Raffaela, pulling on a leather jacket, and we walk around the back of the cathedral to see the magnificent and unusual apse.

In the alley is s souvenir store selling mosaic and kits to make your own. While Victor chooses a set for himself, Oswaldo and I wonder that a finished ap. 15x25 cm copy of Van Gogh can cost 810 euros. Then we wander down to a lookout, where you can see the urban sprawl of Palermo, nestled between mountains. Victor takes a panoramic picture and then we head back for our warm car

and proceed to brave the rush hour to return to our hotel. There are a million inhabitants in Palermo and the traffic is almost more chaotic than that of Rio. Wherever we look cars are streaming into carlanes along with the ubiquitous motorcycles, and Vespas, of course. The difference is nobody seems very angry and there is no beeping.

THE DINING EXPERIENCE

After a rest (and renewed struggle with internet, all of us huddled near the door) we bundle up and head out to find the Ristorante Gagini, recommended by Matteo, our travel agent. It turns out to be quite near, up a little narrow street from the Marina. There is, alas, no room in the cozy dining room, so we are a little put out to have to sit outside on the veranda in the cold. All this is forgotten, when first a waiter arrives with a complimentary glass of Prosecco (and blankets), and second, an operatic scene begins to unfold in the street beside us. An old lady is escorted down the street by a young man with much screaming and arm gestures to a door beyond us where another, middle-aged, woman waits, sweeping the floor angrily, and also screaming. The young man runs up back up the street, exclaiming loudly, and then 2 police vehicles arrive, and a couple of big strong carabinieri climb out. More shouting, while one of the cops takes out a pad, rests it on the roof of a car and begins to write. Meanwhile another event is about to blow. A fearful lady driver is unable to turn into an even smaller street, where a car has parked right on the corner, and an ancient man gets out of his, now blocked car to urge her on. He is joined by another old stooped man, and together they shout at this poor lady - who never leaves her car, while they also make Sicilian arm gestures and say things like "Madonna Santissima." The policemen are bored with the other screamers, where a young pretty and very pregnant blonde has now joined the group, and go help the woman driver. Thus all the piled up cars go away and leave more room for the other scene, where 3 guys, one rather stocky with a tiny square area of hair on top of his bald head, come jogging down the street. Screams from a 3rd floor balcony above on the other side of the street reveal a gentleman in his underpants and a sweater - against the cold? - who shaking his arms for emphasis also joins the fray. The stocky guy is now weeping in the doorway, and an apparently amused cop having a smoke comes over to us to explain. "Husband and wife," he says. We are tremendously entertained - giving less attention to the fabulous food - cherne cooked in paper with a stick of cinnamon, raisins and mint (= Sicilian flavor) for Oswaldo and me, while Victor eats beautiful rolls of fish and broccoli, preceded by a carrot mousse and spinach - O and I shared triangles of pasta with a special Italian cheese - than it deserves. The restaurant owner, distressed - but also owner of the car which blocked everybody - apologises for the mess and from then on we're plied with all kinds of delicious dessert wines to accompany Victor's chocolate mousse 

 and Oswaldo's 'reinterpretation' of Cassata. Yum.

Meanwhile the cops have taken the three guys down to the corner to have a quiet chat. When they return they are emotional friends, with hand shakings all round and slaps on the shoulder. The cops drive away and the men head up the street talking animatedly. A lesson in diplomacy - and such fun!