We went to the beautiful beach town Cefalu on our last day there (pictures soon, I promise). After having some extremely fancy gelato on the beach, I offered to walk to the train station to figure out when the next train to Palermo was, forgetting that the station was more than a bit of an uphill walk, which would be very hard for my mom, who has trouble walking long distances, to make. Anyway, I get to the station and some guy is standing out there and starts talking. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or talking to someone behind me and quite frankly I wasn't in the mood to find out, especially since, after I went inside, he was still talking to the spot where I had been standing. Anyway, mission accomplished, I go back down into town. We decide to take a taxi to the train station. There weren't any taxis at the stand, so I called one. The dispatcher told me to look for a cab with a certain number. After a few minutes, a taxi (that wasn't ours) came to the stand and we decided to take it because we didn't feel like waiting. (Do you people understand how GOOD it feels to be in a civilized city where you can get a cab whenever you want?) Anyway, we get to the station and as soon as we get out, some guy comes up to me and asks, "Were you the people at Piazza Garibaldi?" "Um... yeah?" Then he started yelling at me for not waiting for the cab that was supposed to get us, and what the fuck was our problem, etc. (our cab driver, a very sweet lady, had told us business was slow so I guess that's why he was pissed.) She jumped in and said, "Oh, she doesn't speak Italian" and told us to go inside. They fought for a bit, she won and left, and then we heard the other cab driver bitching very loudly outside. Whatever. Then, two minutes later, the guy who had been talking at me (Scylla?) when I went to the train station the first time bounded into the station, with a very worried-looking older man in tow, literally got into my face and started yelling about how could we have left him, and he was waiting in Piazza Garibaldi for three hours (more like three minutes), and why didn't we ask for the number of the cab, etc. Basically, I lied to him a little and said we thought the first cab was ours, but he wouldn't go away. Finally the older man, who had been trying to calm us down, asked us where we had been waiting and then basically said, "Oh, you were mistaken, you were in Piazza C." (Total lie.) Which calmed Scylla down. He shook my hand, left, and the older man leaned over to me and said that he was "malatto" (sick). Then we heard more extremely loud bitching outside, so I started cursing in Italian, which I can assure you surprised everyone in the waiting room. We then had a peaceful train ride to Palermo. Considering what happened next,I think that Scylla gave us the malocchio.
We wanted a memorable last meal in Palermo. We got it. We wandered a block away from our hotel to a piazza where there were a bunch of restaurants. Mom saw one that had a huge antipasto buffet and she was all, "Oh, the antipasto of my youth! Can we go?" Before we could say yes or no, the owner, Charybdis, who was very friendly but seemed a little bit...off... invited us in. And by invited I mean forced us to sit down at a table. We started talking in Italian, and he kept on putting his hand on my shoulder and being otherwise touchy-feely. I turned to him to ask him to stop and found the powerful stench of wine and beer on his breath. He asked, "Can I get you Sicilian-style veal rolletini. It's the best?" "Uh, no, we're not really interested." I gave him our order. Every 5 minutes:
"Do you not want Sicilian-style veal rolletini? Only the best for you."
"No. We want what we ordered."
Charybdis retreats to his corner table where he drunkenly mutters over the receipts and takes a swig from his huge jug of beer.
"Claudia [the waitress]! Get x for that table!" Claudia totters over with four other orders and does as commanded.
Charybdis saunters over us. "Do you want veal rolletini."
"No. We want what we ordered."
Our food eventually came. I got the past I ordered but Rachel and Mom got... veal rolletini. We wait half an hour for our garlic bread, which never came, and Dad's steak. Which had magically turned into veal rolletini. And we were charged 105 euro for the pleasure.
We had to get up at 5:30 in the morning to get to the airport. The flight from Palermo to Rome passed without event. We get to Rome and check the board--our 12:45 flight had been pushed back to 5:40. Well, that was weird. We went to the Alitalia desk. What had happened to our flight? Could we change to another one? The people at the Alitalia desk were studiously unhelpful. It was a Delta flight, so why should they help us? Except it was an Alitalia flight. Oh? Then the flight got pushed back even further to 8:40. We went to the Alitalia desk again, and they didn't help us, again. Finally we walked to another counter and found the Delta desk. They switched us to a flight to Atlanta with a connecting flight to New York. We get to Atlanta. Do you know what was cancelled? Our flight. We were automatically moved up to the next flight to New York, but no one could tell us where we could get our boarding passes. We were so tired that we sat around waiting at gate 21, not gate 12. Somewhere between running to gate 12 and trying not to knife anyone for this incredible stupidity, Rachel got me french fries and chicken fingers from Checkers. Ah, the first taste of home. I had been imprisoned in a land of good food and fresh vegetables! Nothing could have been better than potatoes lovingly fried in lard. Anyway, we got on the plane. As we found out when we landed in La Guardia, our luggage didn't. We just gave up and went home. (Our luggage is coming this evening.)
Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't slept for 24 hours but I almost cried when I stepped out of the airport. Home! The beautiful smell of New York (smog and gas), the constant murmer of traffic, the wide, long streets, and the shiny modern buildings. I have a very love-hate relationship with New York (as in, I love to hate it), but I think I finally understand why outsiders are so fascinated by it. There really is nothing else like my beautiful crystal city.
