Sicily is such a wonderful study in contrasts. The life-loving music and food that enhance day-to-day life. The solemn widows who wear black for the rest of their lives. I remember the trip that Nick and I took to Noto, southwest of Siracusa. Monumental buildings made of local golden stone, richly filagreed ironwork everywhere you looked. Jay and I were in Sicily for a day last year when our boat stopped in Messina, then on past the still active volcanic island of Stromboli that we saw erupting in flames in the dark night as we sailed by. Today’s stop is slated to be Portoferraio on another of Italy’s islands, Elba (of course there’s a Napoleonic museum), 12 miles off the coast of Tuscany, and in the same archipelago as the island of Giglio (where that ill-piloted Italian cruise ship ran aground last year. Yikes!)
Talk about synchronicity! This blog entry shares cyber-headlines about the election of an openly gay, anti-Mafia man to be governor of Sicily. He fluently speaks Italian, English, French, and Arabic. The island was until last month the citadel of Berlusconi's crime-ridden system: so there might be better times coming. Look up Rosario Crocetta on Wikipedia.
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