Fishy Mafia
Sicily is one of my favorite places on planet Earth, and it’s certainly one of the most beautiful. I think the Sicilians are some of the friendliest, most gracious people anywhere.
I had taken an overnight ferry from Napoli to Palermo, a decayed city that once was the grandest in Europe. Before the Norman knights founded a kingdom there in 1072, it had been a jewel of the Islamic world. I like it, but it’s dangerous at night, especially the Kalsa, the quarter near the port.
After two days of seeing the sights of Palermo, I decided to take a train to Trapani, home of sun-dried sea salt and ‘panoramas’. There were quite a few stops, and I had to make some exchanges. At one place, I forget where, a salty-looking guy got on. He smelled of diesel fuel when he walked by, so I figured he must be a fisherman.
He was an attractive man, in a rough-hewn sort of way, just what you would expect from someone who worked outside, on the sea. I like people like that. We didn’t talk at all till we both got off to wait for the next run. While we sat on a bench, I sensed that he wanted to talk, so I said, “Buon giorno.”
He brightened, and rattled off something in Italian. I said, “Mi dispiace, non parlo l’italiano.” (“Excuse me, I don’t speak Italian”).
He repeated what I’d said, and started laughing uproariously. I was taken aback, even a bit offended. I knew my pronunciation was good, because I’d had so much practice saying it, and everyone else understood me, so why was this asshole insulting me this way?
He repeated it again, and collapsed in giggles. I thought this was going too far, and was about to test some Italiano profanity, when I finally got it— I’d just told him in flawless Italian that I didn’t speak Italian. “I guess they have a subtle sense of humor here”, I thought, so I started laughing too.
After that we were friends. We communicated for the rest of the trip by taking turns pointing to the nouns in my English-Italian dictionary, using sign language to fill in for the verbs. We actually carried on a decent conversation this way, and made each other laugh. When we got off the train for his final stop, we got separated in the crush, but he made a point of searching me out, and came over, embraced me, and kissed me lightly on both cheeks.
We shook hands, and said, “Arrivederci!”
I had a little bit of a tear in my eye.
That’s why I love Sicilians.
by Vince Williams
[Image: Ferrovia Circumetnea by Antonino Taverna]
3 years ago • Notes