Bring me back to Sicily

Tuesday 9:30AM. Naples, Italy.

I'm going to skip right over Naples, because I have one more day here to have it redeem itself.

Now for Palermo.

It began with me almost getting stranded at the airport. I landed in a very much abandoned airport. Not many signs translated in English. Walking around, looking like a tourist, making myself a target. Trying to find the invisible bus that is supposed to take me into Palermo. After about a half hour, I find an information booth where the woman clearly sees my ill-hidden distress and directs me to the bus that actually isn't invisible. Get to the bus, the bus driver is an ass, there are no ticket machines to buy a ticket, I'm 30 cents short in euros to buy one from the bus driver, and when I get back inside the ATM doesn't work. Oh, and there's no wifi.

So I go back to the lady at the information booth, holding back tears, because I'm trying to be a big girl traveler, and desperately ask her what to do. So first she tells me that there is another ATM upstairs that I can try. Second, she asks where in Palermo I was going, then offers to drive me there in an hour when she gets off her shift.

Now of course I have the wee instinct of "Who do you work for?! I know you're going to Taken me somewhere!" But then I feel more "Thank you mommy."

So, what ends up happening is that I use the other ATM, make the bus, and not get Taken anywhere except to my lovely hostel with the lovely Alesandra who showed me to my very comfortable, squeaky bed. But how nice of that woman to offer that to me. I hear that only happens down here in the southern parts of Italy.

And it was grand. Not as visually beautiful as the previous cities I had been to, but I felt like I was back home in Queens. Surrounded by people much smaller than me and with way better tans, cat-calling me as they rode by. Home, sweet home.

Seriously, the people down there are very small. Partly because of the inhalation of all the vespa emissions. And also because, being in the south, there's less of a chance for them to mix their love juices with those tall, Scandinavian countries.

But I had a lovely time finding my first beach to lay on. Of course, found some more fun Aussies to spend my days with. We found a piazza where all the degenerate youths dance and drink at. The drinking age I think is 16, so you can imagine the underage drinking horror. Anyways, a youth grabbed my hiney, so I turned and shoved his fat arse with my Amazonian muscles. He gave me the finger so I started going after him with my empty beer bottle in hand. The Aussies held me back, lucky for him.

But despite that one hiccup, it was so much fun.

Then I came to Naples... to be continued. 

Oh! And here's a picture of old man Pinocchio!