Sicilia Selvaggia, Wild Sicily

"I'm so glad that I fell in love with a Sicilian. There's something about the uninhibited, but many-times-over-inhabited land that makes sense to me. The fiery spirits and fiery food, the wildness of the plains, the roughness of the rocky crags, the introvertedness of people living in small, remote hilltop towns where they only speak Ancient Greek, the hooded glances and double-voweled and -consonant'ed dialects that echo Arabic origins, the fierceness and protectiveness of a much-conquered people. I don't think I'd ever set foot in a place that I recognized as much as I did as when I first rode the night train from Reggio Calabria on the mainland to Messina, the port of entry into Sicily.

Of course I could always return by myself if I hadn't met R, but experiencing the whole of the island from left to right, reading it my way, instead of the Arabic way, alongside someone who could guide me, and more importantly, translate, helped me see what I would never have been able to see on my own. There's no passport or visa that will open the doors and hearts of the Sicilians—the only way to gain entry, especially for someone that's only passing through, is by the hand of one of the island's own.

Or by a glance from one of her sons."

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You'll find me on Alla & Mu-Hsien's On the Same Page today sharing a bit about one of my first trips back to Sicily after meeting R. Head on over for a little more of our back story—from the days when an entire ocean still separated us—and to see why I believe Goethe was so wise when he said: "To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is not to have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything".