Freedom Bus
This morning’s time with Ettore was short, so after checking with Elena, I decided to take the bus and go to Catania. My order is in at the enoteca, and they’ll only take credit card charges in person.
Knowing that Joe had no interest in driving there, I checked the train and bus schedules. Apparently, the fastest and comfy-est way to get there is by autobus, aka Pullman. And it’s true. Comfy seats, air conditioning, plenty of space.
Joe opted to hang out in the apartment, so I had a solo adventure!
I seated myself a couple of rows behind the bus driver, in case I had questions. I nearly had the whole bus to myself. We made it into Adrano before the next passenger, a man probably around 50 years old, tried to get on without a mask.
Mascherina, Signore.
Non ho una mascherina, mi dispiace.
Allora, non puoi prendere l’autobus senza una mascherina.
L’autobus è quasi vuoto! (gesturing wildly)
Throughout this discussion, I was digging in my purse. I found an old/used surgical mask, and asked if he wanted it. He took it, still upset, but said thank you.
We made another stop, 15 minutes later, in Misterbianco. A cute elderly white-haired woman got on, politely asking if the driver could bring her a bit off route, to the pharmacy on the other side of town.
Certo, Signora; tranquilla.
And so there are rules, and then there are other rules. This is Italy.
As we got to the edge of Catania, I asked the driver if he stopped anywhere close to the main piazza, near Basilica Cattedrale Sant’Agata. He said he needed to loop around on the regular stops, but would go a bit down the hill and tell me when it’s time to hop out. Once there, he pointed straight ahead. Continue down this road; where it stops is the main square. It looked to be a 6 block walk. Perfect.
I saw a bit more of Catania. Nice stores, the Villa Bellini gardens, more palazzi and piazze. Within ten minutes, I was at the wine shop.
Walking in, I was warmly greeted by Roberto/Kennedy, Katerina, and another employee whose name I didn’t get. I bought some Sicilian cookies for Joe to take to Nello, my friend at the hotel’s front desk in Sorrento, since I called in a favor to get rooms for Joe and his family. The hotel was totally booked through normal venues, including their own website, but Nello has always pulled a rabbit out of a hat for me. I think what he did is worth more than a bag of cookies, but Joe took just carry on luggage. I wanted to send some beautiful Sicilian wine. Alas.
At Wine & Charme, they poured a lovely glass of chilled dry Zibbibo for me while ringing up my order; light and refreshing and nothing like its sweet counterpart. They offered snacks, but I was still digesting the gelato. We spent some time together, talking and laughing and sharing recipes. Since I’m a sucker, I bought a bottle of said Zibbibo to bring home. Katerina tucked in a pouch of sesame cookies. A gift, she said.
I bought a lot of high-end wines. There are big occasions throughout the year, including my sister’s 60th birthday. I’m planning ahead, since I think these wines will make spectacular gifts.
We said our ciao ciao ciao ciaos (it’s always a string of them), and then I had to figure out how to get back to Biancavilla.
I stopped into an elegant tabaccheria of pipe tobaccos and cigars. They were sweet and professional, but apologized for having only the local bus tickets. Where do I buy a ticket to Biancavilla?
“Sempre per default, Piazza Roma,” the man said. So to Piazza Roma I went.
It’s unusual, but there were no tabaccherie fronting Piazza Roma. I walked almost a block down the perpendicular street, where I saw some people waiting at the bus stop. I asked a woman in that line where I might find the nearest tabaccheria. She told me to go to the end of the block, turn left, and right before the butcher shop, there should be one—but she didn’t know if it’s still there. Covid, she explained, with question-mark gestures.
It was still there. Slightly larger than a phone booth, but there. I asked for a ticket to Biancavilla, what number might be on the bus, and where/when to catch it. Here’s the ticket, I don’t know a number, and go to Piazza Roma and wait. Ok. Nebulous info, but I’ll figure it out.
I walked out of the tabaccheria, which is a block and a half from Piazza Roma, looked up before crossing the street—and right in front of me was an express bus emblazoned with BIANCAVILLA above the windshield! Someone’s looking out for me today.
The ride went quickly; once home, I sent a note to Elena saying I’m back and can watch Ettore. When she didn’t answer right away, I went down to Mariella’s.
“Ah,” said Elena. “I just texted you.”
Giovanna, Elena, Mariella, and Nonno were sitting together, talking. Rachi was quietly playing with Ettore, who’s obviously still quite sick, as he barely looked at me!
Giovanna started saying something, a couple of times, pointing to her front teeth, then to my mouth. I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
“Do I have something stuck in my teeth?” I asked Elena. “I think that’s what Giovanna said?”
Elena, too, had to ask what Giovanna was saying.
“She is jealous of your white teeth!”
I said I appreciated that, since I’m very self conscious about my bi-colored front tooth, which chipped and got repaired in Italy several years ago! They wanted to know how it happened. I explained I wasn’t sure, but I had eaten a pizza with olives, forgetting that Italians don’t pit them first, and bit down on a particularly durable one several days before the chip happened.
Now, suddenly, they wanted details. Where? What city? What kind of pizza did you order—olives and what? I said I thought it was near Sorrento, Italy but could’ve been Cefalù, Sicily.
“Probably Sorrento,” Nonno said in Italian, tapping his cane decisively on the terrace tiles.
I apologized, saying I should go upstairs with Joe; it’s his last night here, as he leaves for his week in Rome tomorrow.
“Go! Go seduce Joe and make babies!” Elena urged.
“A new set of twins, named Fortuna and Miracolo,” I responded.
Joe and I had a quick drink together on the breezy balmy balcony, then walked through town to dine at Pinto. Their outdoor seating is set up across the street, an elevated plateau, and a pretty setting. We split a Cacio e Pepe ravioli—outstanding—and I ordered a horse burger while Joe got the octopus. A crisp white wine was a good complement to it all. We talked for some time with the young owner, who remembered when we dined there in January, remarking that Joe’s hair was long then. It was. He got pretty shaggy before that first Sicilian buzz cut!
After dinner, Joe had Averna, which I remarked was not what was actually poured for he and Nikos in Agrigento when they ordered it. I had surmised they were served Jäegermeister, which is dark brown. Averna is tawny gold and tastes like heaven. Joe, who is often a hybrid character of doubting Thomas and Quick Draw McGraw (except Joe holsters an iPhone), claimed that Jäegermeister is more like schnapps. No; I said, slipping into this ridiculous web, eyes wide open; I spent many an evening in Germany with it—it is not schnapps. And anyway, what I’m telling you, is that it’s not Averna. So he had to look up the history of everything about all liqueurs mentioned, tracing back to hieroglyphic legend. I was falling asleep for multiple reasons.
It was a long but productive day. And Joe gets up early to fly out of Catania—we hope! Alessandro just sent note saying that there is a full-employee strike (pilots to ticketing agents and baggage handlers) throughout Italy tomorrow.
My goodness! Love these stories, I envision a reality show with your extended Italian family when telling them about your tooth! ☘️
ReplyDeleteThey are so vivid and full of life, I can't imagine who I'd cast in the show! Although I feel Rita Moreno would have to play SOME role--she is still a spitfire :)
ReplyDeleteHA! Your mom reminds me of Rita Moreno 😘
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