Nella vita – chi non risica – non rosica.
During my recent trip to Sicily, I decided I would dedicate my time there to relax and do some soul-searching. Which, basically translates into hopping on public buses that would take me to remote beaches where I could spend the day under the sun, reading a book and pondering about my next steps in life.
I must say, I felt pretty empowered and decided to make drastic changes to my life until I got back home and got stuck in my routine of a corporate job. But, that’s another story that we shall, perhaps, discuss some other time.
One of my “soul-searching” stops was at San Vito lo Capo, a beach town in North Western Sicily part of the province of Trapani. I was drawn to this place by the image below. A friend had given me some recommendations on must see places in Sicily and included this picture in his “travel guide”. Yes, my first reaction was: “That’s exactly where I NEED to go”.
Although he warned me about the picture being misleading, given that this area is rather popular during the month of August, I was still in shock when I arrived there and found it very hard to find a spot for my pink flamingo beach towel.
I don’t think I had ever seen so many people at the beach. What was even more surprising was the fact that no one was topless. Something that I was definitely expecting since this is what most Europeans do while in Miami Beach. Needless to say, I felt a bit awkward sporting my thong bikini at San Vito. Since you know, these days I’m being bold and letting go and stuff, I thought it would be a great idea to shamelessly expose my buns.
Anyhow, I did my thing despite the number of immigrant vendors that kept offering me oriental massages and straw beach bags (that I really liked but realized could never make them fit into my overweight luggage), in addition to the creepy Speedo-wearing-italiano who decided to stand right in front of me and just… stare at me.
I alternated my beach activities between roasting under the sun and dipping into the ice-cold sea until it was time to head back to Erice to meet my friend for dinner. Of course, in good italian fashion, the bus scheduled posted online that I had relied on was wrong and I ended up having to wait an extra hour for the next bus to Trapani.
By then, the sun was nonexistent and rain ruined the beach scene. So, what did I do? Eat.
I was pulled into a gelateria and ordered a sinful lunch: Baci gelato with Nutella and panna on a waffle.
And of course, I finished it all by myself. Why? Because I can. And, because I was in Italy.