Sicily!

Spoiler Alert: Travel Day. We took few photos.

After a good night’s sleep and a lazy morning, we packed up (we bought nothing, yet it seems like our suitcase is even more stuffed) and then called an Uber to the airport. We got loaded up in the Uber and buckled in the backseat (they require that here) and then a couple came and knocked on the window and said it was their Uber. They were correct. There was another Uber, our Uber, just in front of the one we were in. All the Ubers here seem to be black Toyota Corollas. I felt a little bad because the first driver had lifted our thousand pound suitcase into the trunk and I had promised him a good tip.

The second guy who heaved the suitcase into the trunk got that tip.

The Madrid airport was just as confusing as when we arrived a few days ago. We finally found the Ryanair desk, which was located at the far end of the airport behind the Burger King, which along with KFC are surprisingly prolific in Madrid. No other airlines were anywhere near there. We thought we were early, since it was 12:20 p.m. and our flight wasn’t leaving until 2:10 (more on that later), but that 10 minutes mattered a lot to the woman managing the counter. She gave us a little talking to about how we should have been there two hours prior to takeoff. But a young girl who checked us in was super sweet and tried to make us feel better about being chastised.

A few minutes later, without realizing it, I dropped the small shoulder bag I carry with our money, credit cards, passports and pretty much everything that really matters. I was still carrying a bag and coats, etc. Several minutes later, just as we were about to enter the security check, a man approached me speaking rapid Spanish. I thought he had mistaken me for someone else and smiled and turned away. He touched my arm and I noticed he had my bag in his hand. Oh my gosh, my heart raced at the thought of the problems that would have occurred if I had lost that bag. He saw the relief on my face and hugged me. If you know me, you know I lose things, especially a purse. My friend Emily says no outing or trip is complete until she hears the blood-curdling cry: Where’s my purse?! It’s why I don’t routinely carry one. I left a purse on an overseas flight once returning from Austria and it made its way to Israel and back to me intact, thanks to the kindness of strangers. I swore then I would never lose one again. So much for that, but so thankful again for the kindness of a stranger.

These days we use a wheelchair to get Betsy through the security line so she doesn’t have to stand for so long. She can walk and does great, but if we are going for long distances of walking and standing, it’s best to have some help. A very nice man escorted us through security and then to the gate. For the first time, as I passed through security, an armed officer told me – kind of ordered me, really – to remove my head cover, which I wear because I have alopecia. I’ve never removed it in front of anyone except Betsy. I froze. He said it again, more sharply. I felt my face flush. I raised an edge of the head cover and said, “I have no hair.” His face softened immediately and he said not to worry and let me pass. I’ve been thinking about that and asking myself why I am so reluctant to let anyone see that I don’t have hair. I have none at all, not even a wisp, and haven’t for a decade. I want to be more comfortable about that and am going to work toward not being so self-conscious. So many women proudly show their hairless heads as they face cancer. I’m not sick. Alopecia is entirely aesthetic. I want to be more accepting of it.

Once at the gate, we bought some airport sandwiches, always a mistake, and waited on our flight, which was about 45 minutes late. There was little seat mixup, but it was settled quickly and we were off. Betsy and I chatted and were so excited about visiting Sicily. Honestly, we love all things Italy and have visited the mainland four times, so this part of the trip feels familiar. The flight wasn’t very full and the people around us were chatting and laughing with one another. It felt festive and so did we.

As we approached Palermo and began our descent, things changed. The plane suddenly lurched to the right and a wing dipped toward the sea. Passengers gasped, including us. Then we felt the plane suddenly begin a sharp climb and we began flying out over the sea. It was clear the landing attempt had been aborted and we were ascending into the clouds and flying away from the airport. Even the flight attendants looked nervous. We were in the second row of seats and could see their faces, which were not at all reassuring. A girl across the aisle caught my eye and I could see her fear and I’m sure she could see mine. About 15 or 20 minutes later, we were descending again. After some turbulence, we touched down with a jolt. The entire plane erupted in applause.

The cab ride from the airport to our vacation rental was almost just as harrowing. In our travels, we have learned that these European drivers – Italian, Spanish, Belgian, Austrian, French, Irish, Portuguese – are the most skilled and daring drivers in the world. We don’t know how every vehicle on the road isn’t bashed in. Vehicles pass within an inch of one another at every turn. Also, we don’t know how pedestrians aren’t mowed down in the streets. That was true in Madrid as we traveled to the airport and even more true here as we made our way from the airport. Our driver was fantastic, but instead of a simple transfer from the airport to the apartment, it felt like a combination of a demolition derby and the Autobahn.

As we exited the vehicle, we heard a greeting that filled our hearts with joy. Our dear friend Sheri had arrived a few hours earlier from Nashville and had already checked into the apartment and met us on the street. We all went up to the apartment and made our nest, unpacking, organizing and having some wine and cheese. Then we walked just a few steps to eat at a fish restaurant and had a wonderful dinner. Betsy ordered a mushroom and shrimp pasta. Sheri had a tomato sauce and eggplant pasta and I had a pan seared sea bass with fennel. We topped that off sharing a molten lava cake. Yes, very 70s, but it was so good. Things are classics for a reason.

We are looking forward to a wonderful day in Palermo.