Turns out being rocked back and forth in bed by 6-8 foot swells is very calming. I even dreamed I got sent to a newly created world in the second crew because of my debugging skills. Apparently my subconscious considers this world BTDT*.
So, Sicily. We were there at the perfect time, before the summer drought turns everything brown and sere and when Etna was conversational. In the volcanic-ash-enriched soil on Etna's slopes, anything that can grow will grow. We saw lemons and oranges ready to pick, lots of vegetables, lots of prickly pear, pruned back grapevines, flowers, all in carefully maintained terraces -- we're on slopes, remember. Our first stop at the end of the most recent major lava flow took us through villages on streets whose curves were clearly designed with donkey carts rather than 40-passenger tour buses in mind. Our driver deserved an award for not knocking any corners off the beautiful two-story stucco houses we passed within inches of.
And here we are at the end of a lava flow from the mid 90s, hearing how the Sicilians have learned to control the flows to minimize damage, when, out of a clear sky, a growl of thunder. Then a couple more. "Oh, that's just the volcano," the guide says, not visibly running in terror. Turns out Etna, unlike St. Helena, has little mini-eruptions all the time, tossing a few boulders into the air, emitting clouds of smoke, ash, and gas, and spooking the tourists. "If you are here at night, you can see the glow of the lava in the crater," the guide said. One spooked tourist asked, "But we won't be here at night, will we?"
The thunderous basso continuo accompanied us all afternoon. A few of us were spooked, but most of us were delighted. We were delighted to have the volcano commenting as we sampled flavored honey at the little stand by the lava. We were delighted as we walked up from the bus to the winery where we tasted five wines, two reds, two whites, and a sparkling. (The connoisseurs were unimpressed. I liked all five, but especially the red that was presented as "subtle and complex".) We were disappointed to learn that we would not be able to hear Etna back on the ship in Messina, and our guide, Maurizio, a charming man, tried to console us with a passable amateur rendition of "O Sole Mio" and the Sicilian version of the origins of the Mafia.
According to Maurizio, while Sicily was under the thumb of Spain several centuries back, the Spanish were big on extracting the island's wealth, but not so keen on keeping order and providing justice. So the Sicilians set up their own shadow government. Kind of like what Don Corleone provided to the Sicilian immigrants in New York in "Godfather 1". Once Italy took over in the 19th century, people were used to trusting the local guys and the system continued, in spite of the Italians. Maurizio said he considers himself Sicilian first, Italian second, but he thinks the Mafia is in decline because the younger generation, including himself, is no longer intimidated by them. I was surprised to hear him talk like that. Is omerta passé?
*Been There, Done That.
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