I came to Palermo at night, and it took a while for me to find my hostel. I had been walking the right street twice, but – another lesson learned – I didn’t know they don’t usually put any signs about their existence on the streets. Eventually I found the buzzer, and got in.
Riccardo, the owner, was a very helpful person, and told me everything I was supposed to see in Palermo, all of which I miserably failed to see. I went to have a pizza, which was odd looking but oddly enough, very good. Then I wandered the kebab infested sector nearby, and after having a glass of wine decided to go sleeping.
|Yes, that’s some kind of tortured little sausage there.|
The main reason for not seeing anything historical there was that I overslept that night. Or day, exactly. I woke up to have the breakfast, and after that I decided to take a “small nap”, which lead to everything being too late when I woke up again. Well, I suppose it was needed.
I wanted to have something good to eat, and knew that a certain area of the city had the best restaurants, so I headed there. A friendly fellow saw me looking for the menus, and told me where to eat. And he was right, the seafood pasta was excellent.
|This very suspicious but delicious being hit the bottom of my stomach.|
The dude also told me where the bar street was, so I headed there next. I met some nice people, both customers and employees of the bars, and I talked to them with their bad English and my non-existent Italian. I also found out that a very expensive (in Finland) golden retriever may be a stray dog, and after patting one for ten minutes I didn’t see my palm through the dirt attached to it. Well, it was worth it, at least for him.
I hopped in another bar on the way home, and met even more people, and around 6:30AM I headed back to the hostel. I decided to wake up just in time to get those fabulous bread rolls I got the previous morning.
I woke up at 11:45AM, hung over, 15 minutes before I had to leave the room. “Nice plan, man, didn’t just work.” I stuffed the belongings to the bags and went to handle work problems in the lobby. I was going to go to see the Capuchin catacombs but somebody already warned me they may be closed due to a national holiday. I called them, and even I could understand the Italian words saying the place would be open the next day. Thanks, sweet mother Mary of Christ. All I could do was to wander in the city, and go to meet the bartenders I met the last night, and then I hopped inside the night train to Napoli.
|Unfortunately I didn’t get to pat this sweet little thing.|