Unpacking Italy & Sicily - Part Three
Back to the beginning.
Hello friends,
I know I’ve already introduced you to the cast of characters on our bus—those wonderful companions who shaped our days. But let’s go back for a moment, to the very beginning. Because our arrival in Palermo was a story all its own...
Arrival in Palermo
We landed in Palermo about 45 minutes behind schedule, already worried our arranged connection to the hotel might not have waited. Customs was strange—not like anything we’d seen before. We only had to pass our suitcases through a security scanner (not our backpacks), while a young German shepherd sniffed his way through the crowd, guided by a stone-faced officer. It felt a bit like walking into a scene from a movie—equal parts surreal and slightly nerve-wracking.
Once through, we rushed to the designated meeting point, scanning the crowd anxiously. And then—there he was. A man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a mafia casting call: dressed entirely in black, with thick gold chains on his wrist and neck, jet-black coifed hair, dark sunglasses, and black shoes sparkling with gemstones. He held a sign with my daughter’s name on it.
We approached, breathless and apologetic. Without a word, he glanced at his watch, sighed dramatically, turned on his heel, and started walking. No greeting. No smile. Just a silent verdict: we were late, and he was not pleased. We scrambled behind him like chastised ducklings, afraid he might leave us behind.
Then came my first introduction to Italian driving—a bold, breakneck blur of speed and risk that would continue to both terrify and amaze us throughout the trip. But that’s a story for another post…
Our driver double-parked, as one does in Palermo. Yes—double-parked. On corners, in crosswalks, half on the sidewalk... nothing was off-limits. It was clear that street parking in Italy was more of a suggestion than a rule. We carefully stepped out, navigating between bumpers, curbs, and cobblestones. A small tip seemed to soften our mafia-esque driver’s mood—he offered a slight smile of acknowledgment and helped with our luggage before vanishing back into the chaos.
Traveler Tip: As a pedestrian be aware. Unlike in North America, pedestrians do not necessarily have the right of way! Use the crosswalks.
A Room with a View (Sort Of)
Inside at last, we exhaled. Tired, excited, and a little stunned to have made it after four flights from Canada to Sicily. Our first hotel was modest, the window overlooking a narrow alleyway—but even that alley came with a story.
I was instantly drawn to the colorful buildings with balconies across from us—clearly homes where locals lived out their daily rhythms. One elderly man stooped to pass through a door smaller than he was, then lovingly tended to the many plants on his tiny balcony. An older woman flung open tall shuttered doors, framed by full-length lace curtains that danced in the breeze.
Our First Night
We wouldn’t meet the tour group until the following evening, which gave us time to explore Palermo on our own. That night, I had my first taste of Italy’s culinary magic: a pasta dish in the most extraordinary mushroom sauce I’ve ever encountered. The flavors were deep, earthy, and unlike anything I’ve had before—or since. Oh, how I wish I could recreate it now that I’m home.
After a fairly decent night’s sleep, we made our way to the hotel’s breakfast room. It was clearly an attempt to cater to North American tastes—there was even scrambled eggs, though my daughter (with her culinary training) quickly identified them as dried powder from a package. Their soggy texture confirmed it.
Still, the spread was generous: cold cuts, cheeses, baskets of breads, buttery croissants, sweet pastries, yogurt with all the toppings, granola, dried fruit, and a colorful display of fresh fruit. And of course, coffee—from a machine that delivered tiny cups of espresso or cappuccino at the push of a button. It was convenient, yes, but it didn’t take long before we started missing our coffee from home.
This was just the beginning—we had eight more hotels ahead of us, each with its own charm... and a few surprises. But for now, we were here. In Palermo. In Italy. And it was starting to feel real.
Traveler Tip: The hotels do not have face clothes. The smallest is hand towel sized.
Savoring Sicily: Pizza & Gelato
One of the highlights of our free day in Palermo was a hands-on pizza and gelato-making class—an experience full of connection, learning, and delicious food. Guided by a professional pizzaiolo, we learned to stretch dough, top it with fresh ingredients, and bake it to perfection. We even got a peek at Palermo’s own version of pizza, the thick and spongy sfincione.
While our dough rested, we moved on to gelato—Italy’s creamy answer to ice cream—mixing flavors and churning our own batch from scratch. The best part? We got to enjoy everything we made, complete with local wine and stories that brought Palermo’s food culture to life. We left full, happy, and armed with a digital recipe booklet to recreate the magic back home.
I’m happy to share the recipes with you!
Traveler Tip: At our class we were cautioned and told that not all gelato is high quality.
There's no shortage of gelato shops (gelaterie) and bars and cafes selling gelato in Italy. Many of them will claim that they serve "gelato artigianale (artisanal gelato)." This term is unregulated in Italy and has no real meaning when describing gelato. So, what should a visitor in Italy look for when picking out gelato? When you look into a gelateria and don't actually see the gelato, that's usually a good sign. Do you see flat metal tins? Good! Do they have lids on them? Even better! If the gelato is in plastic tubs, you can be sure that it's not of good quality. Metal is better, though places that serve lower-quality gelato are catching on and are switching to metal, so this alone does not always guarantee quality.
A lid on the metal container keeps the gelato completely hidden but says a lot about what's inside. It means that the gelato is being carefully kept at the right temperature.
Source: https://www.tourissimo.travel/
As I look back on that first full day in Palermo, I can still feel the swirl of emotions—tired, disoriented, and longing for the comfort of home. But something subtle was beginning to stir: the warmth of a shared meal, the beauty of handmade pizza, the wonder of lace curtains and flapping laundry. I wasn’t “settled” yet, but I was softening. Italy hadn’t won me over—but it was beginning to whisper.
Food as Comfort and Connection
Is there a meal you can still taste when you think back on a trip or a turning point?
Tell me—what’s the dish, and what does it hold for you?
The Kitchen Table gathering returns Friday, June 20. Stay tuned for details. I’m leaning towards a theme that will have us conversing over travel experiences and bringing a magical memory alive through our creativity!
McKenna Beach, Maui. Beautiful home grown orange fleshed papayas, halved lengthwise, seeds removed with a generous squeeze of lime juice and a big dollop of plain yogurt. Hold it in your hand and eat whilst watching the waves. Sigh. So long ago and faraway.