End The Shin; Turducken (Days 9-11)

 

The morning of the Last Day of our Down The Shin Trip, we left the magic-land town of Scilla. We admired it from a promontory a couple miles down the road. How did this town even exist in reality? It seemed like a painting. Anywhere one could put a building on the hill, one did. So contained, no sprawl at all, just stacking. And the castle on the mount: made me think of childhood playing Legos and building forts with the best placement for viewing attackers at sea. The sun was bright and the ocean a thousand christmas lights and tinsel. 

We finished our Shin Trip in Reggio Calabria. What a glorious leg (pun intended?), what beautiful days of cycling. An incredible part of Shin Trip was first seeing Sicily days ago, a nearly imperceptible duff on the ocean. "Could that be....Sicily?!" we had said back then. And then we'd ride more and it grew bigger and bigger. Then we saw the volcano Etna for the first time! Sicily was like a banner marking our finish line.

Sicily across the water 

"Sicily is the ball that the boot is kicking", Mom had explained to us as kids. I didn't know many things as a child, but I did know where Sicily was.

We've been in Reggio Calabria for 48 hours now, the longest we've been in one place, and we're getting wiggly to ride bikes again. We're not progressing due to sheltering out a Big Bad Rainy Day, needing to plan our next leg, and some unfortunate misunderstandings involving trains. 

You can make all of the detailed plans using a guidebook in the comfort of your own home with speedy Wi-Fi, but there are pieces that are truly unknowable until you're in vitro. We HAD planned to go to Puglia (the heel) for our second chapter, which is almost entirely flat. But we've learned along the way that flat is less fun than the curvy rugged topography, and drivers are faster when they see down a straight road rather than curves. An Italian friend of a friend confirmed for Puglia, "we would experience some boring time." 

We also cannot know the weather in advance. Our first week spoiled us rotten, days of sun in the 60s. And now we're in a cold and gray chapter. 

I'll offer only a little bicycle-tour-planning-behind-the-scenes: we were considering to go to Basilicata (middle of the instep) because of the beautiful terrain and hill-top towns. But there are River Problems (have to go miles around because no bridges) and Elevation Problems (a 20 mile day crammed with 5,000+ feet of climbing? it would take us weeks to get anywhere). And also Train Problems. It's one thing to read online, "many trains in Italy will take bicycles", and something entirely different to be at the ticket counter and have them tell you "no." And finally: Weather Problems. We were seeing forecasts in the 30s and 40s. We came here to leave that behind. 

And there was Sicily. Warmer. Fewer rivers. Fewer impassable mountain areas. Supposedly loaded with castles, baroque cities, ocean views. But so much we hadn't studied, so many unknowns. Was it wildly different from the mainland? Would the roads be okay? We researched and analyzed and plotted and found problems and fretted and considered and then gave up and went out on our bikes for a little break. Swooping down a hill, Matthew yelled: "I feel called to go to Sicily!" 

We had been waiting for a calling. I trust his gut more than my own analysis paralysis. 

And so we taking the train to a mystical place we had never expected to visit. It feels centering to have a direction again, and also wild to go to a place we never planned to. 

Sondra: "So you said there was a tunnel under the strait?" 

Matthew: "I just assumed that. Unless they put the train on a boat..."

Sondra: "...which is SO not a thing." 

[Train slows; long wait; train backs up; stalls] 

Matthew: "This is the slowest train EVER." 

[look out window] 

Matthew: "What. Well THIS is novel." 

Sondra: "Know what this is? Transport Turducken!" 

[fade to laughter]

Indeed, our train car was being inserted clunkily into the belly of a boat. We could open the doors of the train and climb out, up some steps, and then onto the deck of the ferry. The waves were chaotic and the wind made my coat whip loudly. 

However today has been mostly frustrating as we've navigated train stations with loaded bikes, bought the wrong tickets and then had to wait 4 extra hours, been pelted with the kind of windy rain that goes places it shouldn't, and got a train car with a bambino being played insipid candy child music--for the listening pleasure of everyone--the repetitive Ee-iy-ee-iy-oh stuff. "This music makes me want to pull the heads off dolls", I said to Matthew. 

So instead it's nicer to reflect on our time in Reggio Calabria this weekend. Reggio Calabria was a city city, with shopping galore, a wide walking plaza, beautiful historic buildings, and on the other side of the highway empty parking lots filled with trash, half-completed construction projects with fraying tarps, and pooped-upon sidewalks. It feels like it could be a sister city to Rochester NY. 

Saturday night we wandered downtown to the plaza in search of dinner and found something amazing. A wide river of people, flowing slowly in both directions, groups gently spilling around each other like for rocks in a stream. 

And people were dressed up. Not just dressed nicely; they were STYLING, and there is a distinction to make there.

Trendy eyeglasses, smart cable sweaters, suit jackets over turtle necks. Long beige felt overcoats. A silk scarf tied just so. Black leather boots paired with black tights. Huge white sneakers. Men in tight jeans. Jeans with pockets in unexpected places. Leather. And no other bumbling tourists like us. Perfumes and cigarette smoke wafted above the crowd. 

What was the occasion for all this? It wasn't a street fair with vendors selling trinkets and snacks. There were name brand clothing stores, high-end cake shops and bars along the street (think Ithaca Commons), but it wasn't like people were running errands.

It was a Saturday night before dinner. People were out to see and be seen, to stroll their bodies amongst all the other bodies, to be amongst friends. And there was no hustle or rush like you feel at a crowd in a fiesta. It was an incredible feeling to be part of this, this grand stretch of beautiful people as far as the eye could stretch. 

There were gaggles of teenage girls, lipstick, mascara a bit too heavy--they're still learning-- the global outfit of tiny skirts. You see gaggles of girls like this all over the world. But here you also see gaggles of old men, drivers caps, puffy coats, dark slacks. And I've not seen that type of gaggle before. 

And so ends our first chapter. Ciao fino a doppo Sicilia! 

Basilica in Reggio Calabria