Sicilia Outlet Village
Last night, at the reception table, Elena asked if we wanted to join them to go to Sicilia Outlet Village, smack in the interior of Sicily, and about an hour's drive from Biancavilla.
I swear Joe is losing it, or deaf, or had too much vino, because it took so long to explain this proposition that Marisa started fanning my armpits from observing the effort. And this morning, although an understandable mistake, he thought we were going to Centro Sicilia, which is only a half hour away, instead of this place further afield. I guess I have been putting him through a lot!
We had to pick up the Clio, so we left the apartment at 8:05, to leave time to get it and then meet at Marisa's house. As we were turning into the vigne house driveway, I got a text from Rachi, in English: "Mariella said lets see at marisa’s house,the car is at marisa’s house;" which I took to mean we're meeting at Marisa's house. Along the back roads, herds of cows and goats crowded a property fence to watch us pass by. GPS and Apple both had us going to some poor old woman's gate, where a yipping dog was about to have a stroke from reacting to our mere presence.
Marisa, a ball of energy, flagged us down as we tried a nearby street. We explained the mix up, as she made and served us caffè, and gave me a tour of their lovely home.
The rest of our party arrived; Ciro led the way in his rented Dacia through the back roads so Joe and I could enjoy a scenic view. And it was bucolic grace for the eyes.
We arrived well before the shops opened, and had time to take a capucci' and cornetto, sitting on a patio in the (finally) fresh air.
Sicilia Outlet is like a place in the Twin Cities called Woodbury Lakes, except it's sprawling to cover nearly 5 times the area. One other difference: instead of pushing gimcrack merchandise, the storefronts boasted names such as Tom Ford, Prada, Twinset, Geox, etc. Sure; the outlet prices show huge margins of reduction, but those margins are still greater than my annual income. There's a purse I had to break up with after our 10-minute fling and some gentle fondling, but I'll never forget it.
I discovered that Marisa is a terrible influence. She found a stunning aubergine silk top and matching midi skirt, with a coordinating unconstructed evening-style ecru and aubergine blazer, tastefully splashed with several aubergine and black watercolor-ish lilies. Since it was silk, I stepped back so my drool wouldn't stain it. Marisa has an excellent sense of fashion. No, Marisa, I can't. It's beautiful, but I can't justify the expense (€370 for the three pieces). She said, But it's Twinset. This is a good price, and you have your nephew's wedding next year. Wow. She gut-punched me. I do want to look nice for Sam & Rachel's wedding, so.... NO, KAREN! SNAP OUT OF IT! Marisa, I'll meet you outside. She then joyfully thanked the store concierge, and bounced outside with me.
Joe had in mind to get a couple of new shirts, finding beautiful tailored ones at a high-end store whose name I forgot. Camiciasarti or something like that. He found two elegant shirts in subtle unique prints. There was a nice selection for a third one, but the associate imperceptibly shook her head. He will always look best in a slim fit or tailored shirt, she said. That one is too voluminous. She wouldn't consider having me take it from the shelf.
We stopped at Geox, a company that, I'm certain, keeps it's lights on due to our patronage. I found low-heeled pumps and a spring/fall jacket. Joe was hoping to find a pair of men's shoes. No luck; we'll check out the non-outlet store in Catania. I found a new pair of comfy and pretty fashion sneakers at another store, where Elena bought what I call Michael Jackson shoes. The 90s have returned with a vengeance.
Joe and I asked various shops for VAT tax credit, which seemed to be new information for our friends. It's nice; I forgot to get it at one of the shoe shops, but remembered at Geox. It eased the price tag pain a little.
Throughout the day, Giulio was perfect, as always.
Ciro managed to make a big shopping haul. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed us some small change. This is all I have left, he said, with a sad puppy-dog look. He bought elegant, timeless, sophisticated pieces, one being a classic suit in a rich deep hue between cobalt and navy. I love a country where men enjoy wearing gorgeous suits and other well-fitting clothes of quality fabrics.
We took another picturesque route home, bid our goodbyes to the group, explaining that we'll spend the rest of the day in Biancavilla. Joe has a work call at 3:00, and I need to touch base with my mom. Carmelo greeted us at Marisa's/his house, lamenting he's the only one who goes to work. I pointed to Marisa's shopping bags and said, this is why you must!
The "other" Decó is a stone's throw from their house. We stopped for garlic, fresh veggies, and white wine for cooking. Elena, knowing I love Puglia, bought fresh sagne 'ncannulate, a pasta I planned to use for our lunch, along with incredible tinned Sicilian tuna in olive oil, and left them (along with other staples) at our apartment. At Decó, I found skinny little eggplant "fingers," which showed a recipe for frying them as one does French fries. Instead, I cut them into tender discs, and added them to the garlic with dried chili pepper that was simmering in olive oil. After a while, capers, tomatoes, and wine went in while the fresh pasta cooked. Just before adding the pasta to the other ingredients, I stirred in two (petite) cans of Sicilian tuna, mixed it all together, and set a basket of arugula alongside it all, to sprinkle on top. I've got to say — it's damned good. What would you name this dish?
Joe made his work call, I made my mom call ("My life is boring; I'm just here with old people," she commented. So, all is the same back home with Mom). I cleaned and swept the kitchen and washed quite a few of our things, as it started pouring buckets of rain from the Sicilian skies! With it came gusts of cool but damp breezes. Our clothes may take a while to dry. And then, I lolled on the sofa, writing this post. Better now than doing it til 1:00 am, I guess.
Tonight, barring any more rain, I hope to walk to Scandura or Bar Colombo for a nightcap and to stretch our legs. We've done more eating than walking this trip.
I'll update in the unlikely event anything exciting happens. Ruh-roh; that last statement sounded a little bit like a 90-year-old I know!
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