Italian Quickies

Got back from Sicily last Tuesday, off to Croydon for a family wedding on Friday, back to work this afternoon, hence the lack of blogs about what a wonderful holiday I'd had (there were none mid-holiday because I was too busy having a wonderful holiday).

There's nothing worse than someone banging on about what a wonderful holiday they've had, especially when there are no photos to hand, so, in true Exileonpatrickstreet style, here are a few pithy observations.

• Just as I got into the swing of swimming, snorkelling and other such unnatural water-based activities that seem to be compulsary in waters as clear and warm as the Mediterranean, I gouged giant gashes in my right hand and knee on a rock, thus beaching me. You see, I'm a little nervous in water, so when I got a little of the briney down my snorkel, I panicked, deciding that throwing myself at a rock was a lot safer than treading water - all four feet of it. The sea anenome stings were an added bonus.
• Nonetheless, we've decided to return to the site of my ordeal, the island of Ustica, for our honeymoon. All the plusses of the Sicilian/Mediterranean lifestyle without the drawbacks of Palmertian city life.
• At Palermo airport, on our way home, the Special One and I adopted a Canadian called Lasha Heche who had spent the last 10 months au pair-ing in 'Geneva, Switzerland', as she put it. She spoke fluent French, almost fluent English, passable German and plenty of Italian (the Englishwoman in the queue next to us had been in Palermo a month and coulnd't pronounce 'ciao'). Our Canadian had planned to spend two days in Stanstead Airport Hotel until her flight home, so it was almost a moral obligation to take her in.
• Irish lads playing football on the beach will just welly it anywhere in a transparent excuse for a free-for-all. Italians take throw-ins, waste time and play offside.
• Italians are quite possibly the most beautiful nation of people I've ever seen. The Special One had dreadful trouble finding a size 6 pair of shorts, what with the ubiquity of child-bearing hips which go to make up such wonderful curvy figures. They're sort of like the anti-Paris Hilton. The men are quite something to behold too, especially when stripped to their underpants and painted green, white and red (see below).
• Don't go to Sicily in mid-July. We were sweating like a paedophile in a Barney suit (thank you, LuluPop) by 11am each morning. Amazingly, though, it rained one afternoon, and the streets steamed. It rained again at 3am the next morning - a torrential downpour - but no-one cared, because everyone was too busy celebrating Italy's World Cup victory. The photos tell the story far better, but I don't think I'll ever forget the celebrations.
• We had a beer in front of the Teatro Massimo, where the finale of The Godfather 3 was filmed. We were advised not to make the 40km-trip to Corleone.
• More quickies when they come to me. I hope you're insanely jealous.