IN THE MORNING it’s a traditional Italian breakfast of espresso and a croissant from a plastic packet. We explore the town a bit. It’s sleepy and most shops are closed. The only people around are tradesmen and, somewhat strangely, several school groups. Washing hangs from the iron balconies and blows in the wind. Three wheeled scooter/delivery truck things buzz past and fill the narrow streets with two-stroke exhaust. The cars fall into one of two categories: banged-up hatchbacks or lifted, short wheelbase four-wheel drives, some with winches and roll cages and covered in mud. None of the cars is German.

Somehow things seem more real here. You can see more of how everything works. Electricity wires are visibly attached to the outside of buildings. Garbage bags hang on hooks outside the houses. Small trucks are loaded with bottles of propane, presumably for cooking. More wood fire smoke hangs in the air. Fewer things are hidden away, taken care of by some unknown and unseen force. And I think that’s healthy, to see in just a little more detail what actually goes on; how things actually work. The somewhat broken state of everything adds to this feeling. A crack in a stone wall reveals that the wall underneath really is stone, not just a façade. It appears that things are valued for what they actually are rather than how they look or how they are advertised. No one buys a three wheeled delivery truck scooter thing because the ads make it look awesome. However this is Italy so I must be completely mistaken about all this.

Back at the B&B we ask Giuseppe for restaurant recommendations. He tells us about one place: “you can eat pizza and food”. We go there and eat food.

THE NEXT DAY, as we’re finishing breakfast, which in Italy happens more or less immediately after starting breakfast, Giuseppe comes in with some shopping, including a dozen fresh artichokes. He pricks his finger on one and it bleeds. We ask how he eats them and he explains how to prepare them with olive oil and lemon and I think something about soaking them for a long time. “But I just boil them,” he tells us. “I like quick and easy.”

Afterwards, we drive up to a nearby mountain refuge, through a forest along a broken road with large stones lying all over it. The refuge is closed. We do a walk through the snow† up to the 1512 metre peak of Cozzo Luminario, following previous footprints in the snow rather than any real trail. I tear my jeans climbing through a barbed-wire fence, which annoys me. At the top is a clear view of Castelbuono below, and the sea in the distance. Apparently on a clear day you can see Mt Etna but I forget to check.

† Wait, what? Snow? Aren’t you guys in Sicily? I didn’t click this link to read about your boring “I walked through the snow” alpine adventure. Where are the beaches and Italian ladies and super interesting and original stories about sitting on a piazza eating gelato or missing a bus or standing in line for ages to get into an extremely famous museum?

March 24th, 2019

January 3rd, 2018

The Bohuslän Coast

Photos from that most popular of Dutch islands

Snapshots from the least popular season

It's in Vietnam

March 24^th, 2019

January 3^rd, 2018