Trapani, Sicily: part one

The thing about first impressions...

Driving into Trapani from Palermo’s airport, I was reminded of the drive from the Beirut airport to Mount Lebanon. It all felt so familiar — undone in a way. The sandy unkept beige architecture, the sense of desertedness, the narrow streets, the smell of humidity and sea salt in the air that blew from miles away… I got off the bus an hour or so later on the main street that led from Trapani’s center, all the way to the medieval town of Erice. I looked around at this nowhere city, skeptical at first glance. Quiet, secluded, old. Fear creeped in — two months here on my own. What did I get myself into? My landlord met me at the bus stop, eager to get me settled in. A sweet old man who was both patient and frazzled, showed me around the apartment, albeit the four walled space didn’t need much of a tour. He moved at an unnecessarily slow pace, speaking in his broken English and bits of Italian when he couldn’t find the words. After some paperwork was settled, he offered to treat me to some gelato. His wife was out of town and never let him have some during the day… I was his get out of gelato free card. All I really wanted to do was shower off the travel and get to the beach but hungry and not wanting to seem rude, I accepted and savored every bite of that pistacchio e nocciola gelato con la brioche as my first Sicilian meal, the real Sicilian way. He drove me around the city, giving me a little tour. He showed me where to find all the best spots, from restaurants, bakeries and beaches, and mapped out the city from churches, hidden ports and caffès… In hindsight and after having taken the time to discover the city myself, I came to realize that most of his recommendations weren't very good but his effort was much appreciated.

My apartment was quite small. In front of a quiet street, the front door was made of a thick, smoked glass and served as the only window in my home-away-from-home, shielded from the outside only by a curtain. The glass door led directly to two single mattresses made into one double bed, with the “kitchen” table, and clothing closet sitting directly in front. It was more of a room… the only other space being the narrow bathroom that was on the opposite side of the entrance. After I finished unpacking, I showered quickly under the chronically cold water, picked up some essentials for the apartment at the only market that was open, before dropping them back off at my new home and setting off to explore the city.

The stone wall boarded the coastline of Trapani, separating the city center from sea. Large beige architecture sprouted from the ground, clustered together to create small and narrow Arabesque streets. From the coastline, you could see the Cathedrals green dome roof bordered with gold accents. The ancient watchtower loomed at the precipice of Trapani, strategically built to overlook both the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian Sea and to spot any potential pirate invaders once upon a time. I semi-aimlessly walked the huddled streets, discovering its hidden archways that led to the sea and taking mental note of all the places I intended on revisiting. It was mid afternoon, which I’d come to discover was the city’s riposo where all shops, businesses, churches, museums and most restaurants were closed. Desperately looking for actual food that wasn’t gelato, I stumbled upon a little restaurant around the corner of the stone steps that led from the narrow street to the city wall, which served fresh panini — exactly what I needed. The panino was made with crunchy and airy focaccia, mortadella, burrata cheese and pistacchio. Every mouth watering bite was filled with the rich flavors of the simple ingredients that you can only truly taste in Europe. I sat outside facing the sun, letting it warm and color my skin while observing the goings and comings around me. Where the few tourists stood out, the locals were identifiable by their nonchalant and unbothered yet observant demeanors. They looked at me curiously as I sat there and I looked back at them equally curious trying to understand their dialect — hints of the Arabic and Spanish influence in their Italian which I attributed to Sicily's many historic invasions, made it particularly difficult to decipher. My restlessness quickly set in as I was eager to head to the water before sunset, I paid my bill and started making my way.

Trapani shot on digital

I climbed up the steps that led to the top of the city wall that faced westward. The perfect sunset spot. I continued to the end of the wall, exploring the shore from up above while contemplating where I’d settle. A bar sat at the end of the wall cornering both directions from the street, allowing for wide welcoming entrances from both sides. Music playing in the background blurred the sound of the people sitting outside the bar doors, which was conveniently located in the mercato di pesce that held weekly artisanal markets. The bartender inside caught my eye immediately. I couldn’t help but notice his dark curly hair and tan skin that reminded me of the Sorrentine coastal boy I had met the year before. He wore a button down shirt that he left open to the base of his chest where leather necklaces hung low. His curly tangled hair fell awkwardly around his head as if he’d given himself a haircut (something I later learned was, in fact, true). His pirate aesthetic blended in perfectly with the bar which was decorated in old ship parts. An antique helm hung above the bar on its private balcony and pictures of sailing ships lined the walls. The smell of espresso and gin filled the room as I walked up to the counter that stood between me and the curly haired pirate bartender.

“Ciao, benvenuti.” He said as he turned to face me.

“Ciao, una birra per favore.” I answered back as we looked at each other curiously.

“What kind of beer would you like? We have artisanal, local beers only.” He said showing me the menu.

The beers were named after Favignana; the largest of the Egadi islands, Erice; the medieval town that hung over Trapani, Salina; the iconic salt pans leading from here all the way to Marsala, and Segesta; the inland archeological town… Each one coming from every direction of Trapani.

“This beer is strong, this one is also strong, and this one is in the middle. This one…” he paused, finding the words “is salty a little bit.”

I pointed at whichever bottle, not having followed his explanations. “I’ll take this one.”

“However, I would recommend this beer. Mi piace.” He said in his heavy Sicilian accent.

“Okay then, I’ll take whichever one you like.”

“No, no, but everyone has different tastes. You can like something different from me.” He said, his mischievous smile giving way to his impossibly stubborn Sicilian arrogance that somehow played into his charm.

“Give me whichever one you like.” I insisted and paid for my drink.

“I hope you like it and if not, you come back to try another one,” he said with a subtle wink.

I smiled, thanked him, and left, deciding he was trouble and that I likely wouldn’t go back to that bar.

Atop the westward-facing city wall of Trapani at sunset

With my beer in hand, I made my way down the stairs of the defense wall to the beach, watching the motion of the waves as the sun began its descent. The beer wasn’t great, too strong for my liking, but I sipped it anyway while my first day in Sicily came to an end. Taking it all in, I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the smell of the salty air. All the discomfort, all the fear, and all the doubts that were racing in my mind since I had first arrived that morning began to wash away with every ripple of water. And as I came clean from all those feelings, I came back to my intuition, the very thing that guided me here in the first place… there was something to Sicily, something about me needing to be on this island. Something about the cliché of needing to escape to find myself again. To find home again. I took off my shoes and reunited with what has always felt like home. It was too late and too cold to go in now but I walked the shore where the waves came crashing into the sand as the setting sun lit fire to the sea and sky.

I made it to Sicily.

Yours,
Melody