A Journey to Sicily Through the Eyes of a City-Girl

MeiMei Thai

A city girl from Lawrence, Massachusetts temporarily located outside of the United States of America in Sicily with classmates whom I had barely spoken a word to for Spring Break was in for an amazing, unforgettable trip. A journey in which I have learned and seen how different Sicilian life was compared to the city life I have grown to love. The views of the countryside, the ways of living, and the crowded Catania market were an experience of a lifetime.

The first thoughts that ran through my mind on the plane were mostly about my concerns about taking great photographs and for deciding on a good topic to write about in ten full pages. I didn’t think I was going to be seeing any huge differences in Sicily except for the fact that English was not the main language. However, I was completely wrong. I felt like an invisible outsider observing everything that surrounded me and taking in what I see into memory. There were several aspects of Sicilian life that I had not been aware of, like the fact that it was very country-like. Being used to all the city action and noise, this was my first experience with having a cultural shock.

Before I was able to see and realize how different Sicily was, I did not have any ideas of what I would expect. When I first arrived, I nonchalantly looked around and hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, which was probably due to jet lag. I did see, however, the apartment buildings and other edifices that were built similarly to the ones I have seen in California. There were also many tall palm trees that could be found in California as well. It wasn’t until the next day and the rest of my time exploring this island that I was able to recognize a difference from where I have been raised.

As my journey continued, I had a few days in Sicily where I had a few chances to curiously roam around the towns of Cefalu and Taormina on my own. There were a few occasions where I saw several males walking through the shopping centers arm in arm, holding hands, and just being very touchy with one another. The closeness and the touchy cultural differences in Sicilian men always made me do a double-take to make sure I was not seeing things. Besides the close body contact of the men, their styles in clothing were the type of clothes I wear! Young, light-skinned, short dark-haired, light-eyed men were wearing dark, flared and bell-bottomed jeans with a nice, small matching jean jacket to complement their outfit. I wasn’t surprised that they wore them, but I was rather more surprised that it was such a common fashion among Sicilians. Yes, it is certainly true that Sicilian men hold each other and wear tight jeans and small shirts, but it does not necessarily mean they were homosexuals, which I believe people tend to conclude in America. If I had seen this back in the cities such as Boston and Lawrence, I probably would have questioned their sexual preferences. In my hometown in Lawrence, I would never see two heterosexual males greet each other or go out together with such close body contact. What I would normally see when two males greet each other is a very tough, manly handshake or a high-five type of handshake, which is also known as “giving daps.” Also, if they went out to the malls or any other public areas, they would walk side by side with a good amount of space between them, unlike the Sicilians who had their arms locked together. In addition, when two Lawrencians greeted each other, instead of the common handshakes, they would look at one another and give a nod indicating that their presence is known. With the opportunity of seeing how close Sicilians are with each other and growing up in the city where men touching each other is not socially accepted, it was quite an eye-opener.

Although the difference in non-verbal communication between male friends had been

astonishing to perceive, another cultural difference I was not familiar with in Lawrence were the Sicilian siestas. In other words, they took naps. Sicilians had siestas from one to four o’clock in the afternoon, where they closed down their shops and other businesses in order to return to their homes for a long, restful nap. Unlike my own family, my mom always woke up early to get ready for work, where she would work from six in the morning to three in the afternoon. Once she returned home, she would cook and clean the house. She’s usually occupied most of the day, and does not go to sleep until late at night. If Lawrence had siestas, I believe my mom and everyone else would enjoy that very much. It’s nice to be able to take a few hours during the afternoon to sleep, and then re-open everything during the evening.

The custom of taking siestas in Sicily is relaxing, as well as their slow-paced lifestyles. Life appeared to be calming and stress-free. People in Sicily did not seem to take life too seriously because of the way they took their time completing tasks or reaching their final location. On the other hand, the lifestyles in America are the complete opposite, especially the big cities. When Sicilians walk through the streets and shops, they breeze through with finesse and no hurry. They socialize with each other and appear to be at ease and tranquil, unlike Americans who are running past each other with scowls on their faces, looking at their watches to see how much longer they were going to take to finally reach their destination. As for me, I am always rushing to get to a place. Most of the time, I would walk extremely fast through the streets in the city in which I do not get a chance to look at my surroundings closely. Thus, I don’t usually appreciate the little things in life, such as nature and the flying birds in the sky, nor do I take the time to meet and converse with new people who happened to be around. Rushing is something I have learned and adopted from living in Lawrence and visiting major cities like Boston and Los Angeles.

Before I was aware of the fact that Sicilians had siestas and that they were laid-back, I was roaming through Erice, the medieval city, and I had the goose bumps because of the eerie, creepy atmosphere that was caused by the total silence and the isolation of the streets. Nobody was around except for the Americans roaming through the area with their cameras, ready to capture every aspect of Erice on film. Back in the city, all types of sounds can be heard – from the sirens of police cars zooming down the streets, the screaming volume of individuals as they speak, and the cars trying to get through. The silence of an environment for a city girl like me was extremely unfamiliar. Not seeing a soul walking along on any street made me realize that I did not like the isolated feelings I had experienced that day. Normally, I would see homeless people dressed in ragged, ripped, filthy clothing, where they would be lying down in the streets. Some ask for change, and others entertain for money. I had not seen one homeless person in Erice and Sicily at all. Moreover, I did not see any scraps of litter being pushed by the breeze on the ground. If only there had been litter being wind-blown, it may have helped me feel somewhat better for it would have life and movement. Litter is not necessarily a good thing, but pieces of newspapers, plastic bags, soda cans, and broken glass are very normal on American city grounds. Erice, on the other hand, was extremely clean and spotless. There weren’t even potholes in the streets! It almost seemed like it was a perfect place, except that it was too quiet for me. Sometimes silence can be soothing but at that moment, I was missing the loud, banging, and screaming sounds indicating signs of life.

Although I found the stillness uncomfortable, the restaurants I have been to were very enjoyable. I loved every meal I have eaten, and I ate them with such quickness that I was left sitting there waiting for the next course or for everyone else to finish. It gave me time to look at other customers who were eating. From my observations, Sicilians seemed to take their time while dining. They socialized throughout the whole time as they ate. They did not appear to be rushed to go anywhere, but rather at peace and enjoying the moment. In a way, I was somewhat annoyed at how long each meal had taken because I was either fatigued or I just wanted to leave the dining room. There was one night in the hotel at Taormina, I had dinner for more than two hours. I couldn’t stand it. I guess I am a product of the many individuals in the United States suffering from the “chaotic, rushed life” syndrome, loving the fast food restaurants, such as McDonald’s and Wendy’s, and always on the move. The food was very pleasing, however, so I had to take it easy to enjoy the meals. They served the best pasta I have ever tasted, and I basically ate everything guaranteeing that I’ve gained a few extra, unwanted pounds. At every meal I have had, they served more than enough courses! That was perfect; the appetizers, the meat, the pasta, and especially the desserts were all deliciously satisfying. Sometimes it was too much, though, because I would be completely full from the previous meal. Even though my stomach felt like it couldn’t take anymore, I still shoved the yummy food into my mouth and swallowed it down. I couldn’t resist; the food was too fabulous for me to pass up any course.

The food was marvelous, the cooks were wonderful, and the waiters were friendly, but I didn’t spend my whole days dining. My fellow Americans and I were on the tour bus most of the time, either staring out the window or falling into a deep sleep. The times that I was able to fight my fatigue to see everything passing by as we drove were remarkably beautiful and different. I’ve never seen so many open green fields and hills. The rolling green hills were everywhere, and the grass had such perfect shades of greens. They were not brown-colored, nor did they look burnt due to the hot sun. Whereas in Lawrence, there aren’t as many acres of green grass around, but the ones that do exist usually have an ugly shade of light brown. However, some Lawrencians do take care of their lawns and they would look similar to the pretty green colors of the Sicilian hills. As for Boston on the other hand, it is too big of a city to have open green grass anywhere. Mostly streets, tall buildings, apartments, shopping malls, restaurants, universities, and millions of people are almost covering every foot of the city. Green hills are not common in the cities I have been to, but they are in Sicily. It is difficult not to notice and appreciate them.

What also caught my attention as we drove along the roads of the island was how there were so many cluttered towns and neighborhoods that were settled on high elevations. Taormina was one of those towns that were located on such high altitudes. It was extremely high up on the hills, where the roads were narrow. I wouldn’t be able to live that high off the ground. From where I come from, I don’t see people living in homes that were built that high. Perhaps the reason that is, is due to the fact that we don’t have as many hills as Sicilians do. It is very different from what I am used to. I couldn’t imagine living in one town on a hill, and then driving further up another hill to get into another town, which was what we had done on the bus. With that experience, I have an idea of what it’s like and it is nauseating. But as we cut through the town of Polizzi Generosa and strolled through it, it was a peaceful, compacted place. There were several men conversing with one another on the cobblestoned streets. There was a center where Sicilians talked and sat on stoned benches. Practically everything was made out of stone; the streets, the seats, and some of the buildings. Back in Lawrence, it is more spacious and the roads were constructed with cement and tar. When people conversed outside in Lawrence, they spoke more loudly and there would be other types of noise occurring, such as cars honking at one another and buses squealing to a halt. The softly spoken Sicilians and their tightly spaced towns were somewhat suffocating, but their differences are normal to them because they were brought up that way. But for those who love the city such as myself, would find it slightly difficult to adapt to the country lifestyle.

Exploring this island and acknowledging how people live in Sicily is a tremendous load for my-city-girl-self to take in. This trip was a great learning experience, where I had the opportunity to view a lifestyle that was not city-like whatsoever. From the silence to the siestas to the hills, they were great features that made up Sicily. However, these were not the only elements that made Sicily a unique and beautiful place. I went to a special, active market in Catania, which complemented my experience in Sicily.

It started off with the different smells from salt-water animals to fresh fruits and vegetables and to the freshly cut up meat that will shoot up your nose – the strong scents are inevitable! The Catania market in Sicily was the place to be for all my senses to be activated. All of this occurred in just that little section of Catania, and it seemed like all my senses were put to work by one stop.

As soon as I stepped into the market, I was amazed by the smell and the visuals around me. The strongest smell that dominated everything else was the fish, fish, and more fish. Truthfully, once the reek of the sea fish shot up my nostrils, I was disgusted and very displeased. Eventually, I was able to adapt to the strong smell and came to appreciate it. The salt-water smell reminded me of the beaches and the deep, blue ocean sea. I saw the swordfishes, octopuses, snails, and many other types of fish ready to be sold at most of the stands.

As I went deeper into the market, a man shoved a huge shell of a snail in front of my face, which was startling, with a happy, smiley expression and spoke to me in his Sicilian dialect. I just nodded and walked ahead, and another man shoved an enormous clam right before my eyes, making sure I had a good look at it. Again, I just smiled and walked away nervously, expecting for another Sicilian to shove something alive in my face. They were very aggressive and I wasn’t too sure how to react. I had not made any plans to buy something that was breathing, especially since I couldn’t cook. Although they had been aggressive, they were very friendly individuals.

As I continued to walk further inside in a zig-zagged pattern, I saw these clams that were cramped up in a container filled with water. What caught my attention in the first place was the reflection of an angle of the Catania market in the water; a very nice vision. Then, as I was about to turn away and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a squirt of water coming out of the clams’ openings, which only made me stare at them with more fascination. I hadn’t realized that they were still alive, and there were many boxes filled with water for the snails and clams to remain alive and fresh in order to attract consumers.

The faces of the rays were placed standing upright, and I noticed the lovely, appealing patterns of how they were displayed - side by side and one behind the other in a wooden boxed crate. It was a bit odd to see their faces, but it’s the market. Not only did the rays have their own beauty of just sitting there, but also by the way the shiny, sunlit eels had been rolled up can be seen in an artistic way through my city-girl eyes. I have never noticed how aesthetically the fish were set up for purchase when I go to fish markets at home. The reason why I would not see the beauty in them is because they do not set it up the way Sicilians do. Instead, I would see fish that were to be sold swim in dirty, muggy colored water in big fish tanks, which is not an appealing sight.

Besides the fishy smell, the smell of the fresh fruits made me inhale deeper and my mouth to water. The oranges, blood oranges, apples, lemons, limes, and bananas sitting at the stands were delicious visions, but they were not the only ones there. The fresh tomatoes and greens complemented the whole view. The fresh smell lured the customers to purchase a few to bring home.

Not only were there salty and fruity smells, but there were also some dead, cut up meat that were all over the Catania market. It was extremely bloody and gruesome to see the pinkish heads of pigs that had been chopped off, and were then hanging above the sellers’ meat stand. There were sheep and goats that were horizontally cut in half in which all of their bloody, bony guts became visible. These scenarios are sights I would never come across in Lawrence. The grocery stores I have been to in order to buy meat would each be packaged up in clear, plastic wrap with a small foam-like tray. Meat sellers in stores do not reveal the guts and dead, bloody cut up animals for consumers to see, which is why I am grateful that I was able to experience the open Catania market.

What complemented the Catania market were the vendors, who were screaming out and competing with each other to draw consumers to their goods. They did so by “singing” out in a tune-like-musical fashion in Italian about their products and advertised themselves. It was amusing to watch two meat-selling men across from each other taking turns singing out their lines.

The people were very friendly and talkative. They smiled and eagerly posed to have their pictures taken. One fisherman came directly in front of me smiling from ear to ear and stuck out his hand, which I took to shake. He then grabs me and pulls me towards his other two co-workers as I thought to myself, “What the hell?” He pointed enthusiastically at the fisherman for me to photograph, and then he pointed at another friend of his for the same reason. I took both their photos and with his “sign language,” he asked my classmates, Amanda and Matt, to take our picture. Once that was over, he patted me on the cheek with a smile. That was a nice and uncomfortable encounter. I am not used to strangers who were super welcoming and friendly. Matt said, “They go crazy once they see a female,” and Amanda responded with “The power of a woman.”

The Catania market had friendly Sicilian sellers and shoppers. The meat sellers would assist and converse with their customers while freshly cutting the meat right in the open for everyone to see. I observed a middle-aged man, who was dressed in a long white chef-like coat, cut slices of the biggest swordfish I’ve ever seen. It was an interesting vision that became an appreciated memory I won’t forget.

It felt like a never-ending journey through the market. Everywhere I turned, there was something there to grab my attention, whether it was the goods being sold or the Italian speaking Sicilians interacting with one another. At every corner, it led to other powerful smells and visuals – that was the Catania market.

The Catania market reminded me of a Chinatown I go to in Boston. Both the Catania market and Chinatown were small and tightly compacted, where there were many people who were shopping for food. Although the market in Catania reminded me of an area in a city, it still wasn’t very city-like because of its setting. First of all, Sicilians were selling their food fresh and from their stands, whereas in Chinatown, they sell their products in little shops. People are not as aggressive in Chinatown, unlike my experience in Catania. Also in Catania, customers walk and shop by foot, while consumers shop by motor vehicles and other types of transportation in Chinatown. Catania and Chinatown are different, yet somewhat similar despite the city and country differences.

The bombardment of the closeness and the aggressive behavior in the Catania market was quite overwhelming, but the varieties of sweet, sour, and bitter smells were magnificent for the nose. Not only was the market an intriguing experience, but also the visuals I have seen in Sicily became memorable. The green hills, settlement of towns at high altitudes, siestas, silence, and the way Sicilians socialized with one another were completely different from the cities, but very fascinating. With my city-like background, I was fortunate enough to travel on this wonderful journey to Sicily in order to see what life was like outside the city and America itself.

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