Palermo

What a beautiful city!  People say it is tired, run down, and suffers from cheap, unimaginative building design that took place in the period between 1950 and the mid-1980s.  I agree that the city is still a bit rough around the edges, but Stan and I were surprised to see that its heart is rich, historic, and absolutely beautiful. With newly designated pedestrian streets, new museums, and classic restaurants and shops, it’s becoming a top tourist destination.  At least it appeared to be heavily visited by tourists when we did a walking tour of the city.  Restaurants were packed, lines stood at the main attractions, and sidewalks and pedestrian streets were jammed with people.  We never guessed this would be the case. 

The city is indeed very beautiful.  Some must-see places include the Teatro Massimo di Palermo, the most majestic and largest, in terms of square feet, in all of Italy.  After that, Quattro Canti or Four Corners is a piece of art, made in the early 1600s when the city carved a new street to intersect with the first main street to create ground zero, from which the city is divided into four quarters. Each corner is decorated with a facade depicting the four seasons, rulers, and saints.  Just steps away, Piazza Pretoria sits in front of the Praetorian Palace (City Hall), built in the 14^th century, and the Church of St. Catherine.  The showpiece of the piazza is the 16th-century Fontana Pretoria, more fondly called the Fountain of Shame, one, because all the statues are nude and located just below the windows of the convent of St. Catherine, and two, because of its cost.  Other spots we particularly liked were the Cathedral of Palermo and the Porto Nuova, the last remaining gate of the former city wall.  All these sites were built during times of great wealth and deep appreciation for the arts. 

We thoroughly enjoyed that walking tour.  It was among the best we have experienced.  But the day was nothing less than a package of extreme stress.  One might think that seasoned travelers, surely, we must be after all our time finding daily clothing from a suitcase.  But, as often said, it happens. 

First, Google Maps has gremlins.  The App has tripped us up a few times.  Driving into the historic part of Cadiz was one time when Google Maps directed us onto streets not meant for cars but lined with tables filled with diners.  It did it to us again, in Palermo.  As we made prescribed turns, the streets grew smaller and narrower.  With Stan frantically trying to get us to a place of safety and me trying to find a new direction, we realized we might be late for our tour.  I had to decide:  Take time to inform the guide we might be late, or dive in, and just keep trying to figure out how to get there.  We finally made it to a parking spot that we determined was close enough.  In reality, it was one of the Lord’s angels who stood on the street and waved us into his parking lot.  We had no idea how close we might be to where we needed to be, but at least we could get out of traffic and walk to meet our tour.  The man, our angel, took our 10 euros and told us we could park there for 24 hours.   

Thanks to the angel, we were close to where we needed to be.  We walked, maybe 50 feet to our tour meeting spot.  A miracle, a complete miracle.  Whew. 

After our tour and a pizza lunch, Stan remarked offhandedly, we’ll buy gas at the little spot near our villa.  I thought nothing of that statement.  Stan knows I am a stickler; I mean a hard-ass sticker for having plenty of fuel . . . always.  Was his comment an omen?? 

Our Airbnb is in a lovely area just over an hour’s drive from Palermo.  As we were driving along, I busied myself with editing photos and making Google inquiries.  After about 40 minutes, Stan said, “Are you sure you are navigating us to our villa?  This does not look familiar.” 

Oh, yikes, I thought I had.  We were still another 40 minutes away from our correct spot . . . running very low on gas . . . and it was getting dark and way past wine time. 

I found a route to the nearest gas station, but it meant we had to leave the highway to find the nearby town.  As we approached it, we were thrilled to see the lights of the station.  Nearly all gas stations here are unmanned, auto-serve.  Unbelievably, its pay station would not accept our credit cards.  We tried over and over again, but finally realized the machine was out of order.  We had to pee.  The restroom doors were locked.  We were desperate, nervous, and simply did not care anymore.  We relieved ourselves behind the building. 

At this point, we were a bit freaked. 

We headed back to our route toward the villa. Making it there would be hit or miss.  Now we found ourselves on zigzagging, hilly, spectacularly beautiful but lonely, isolated farm roads.  Sheesh!  If we ran out of gas here, what in the heck would we do in the dark?? 

Amazingly, the track to our villa and the nearest gas station matched.  It did until a point.  After several miles, we could turn and take the route to our bed and hope our fuel would last, or we could gamble on going directly ahead, just 3 more miles to another gas station.  We were down to approximately 40 kilometers’ worth of fuel left in the tank.  We gambled on the gas station. 

I can’t describe the nausea, the joy, the relief, and the gratitude we felt when we saw the lights of the station and even more so, when we saw it accept our payment.  We did a fill-er-up, and thanked God. We breathed deeply and thanked God again.