“Take The Cannoli” — A Sicilian Story

The White Lotus this was not

Photo by the author

Ever since Grandpa shoved that first glass of vino under my nose, and Grandma scratched together that first scrumptious batch of homemade ravioli, the land of my family’s ancestors had been patiently waiting for its precious grandson to arrive.

The day had finally come. Move over Don Corleone — the American kid in Deutschland was about to revel in Sicily’s old-world charm.

“We’re here,” I reaffirmed to myself as the aircraft stretched its legs on the runway of Catania airport. I had that nervous, excited feeling one gets when on a first date with the person of their dreams.

All of those Hollywood mob movies and slovenly Italian dinners with the relatives could not fully prepare me for my meeting. This was it, the real thing.

But I needed to remember something for our upcoming journey: “Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.”

As soon as I stepped off the plane, my swagger changed. I had a new kind of walk, one that was in harmony with the Mediterranean appeal of the island but lacking the cunning reserve needed to deal with its inhabitants.

Fresh cheese, pasta and pizza, tasty fish, historic sights, and glorious weather were expected and “ready for the taking.”

Buon giorno, Signore hotel. As the initial check-in at our resort approached one o’clock in the morning, my wife and I found ourselves pointing, signaling, and signing off with a hotel staffer whose English made our Italian sound Marlboro Man smooth.

Like confused lab rats, we wheeled our suitcases around the large resort’s paved walkways for an operose fifteen minutes before finally coming to rest in our room. Sleep would desperately be needed for our week-long rendezvous in this Italian treasure.

But there was no need for venturing afar on our first lazy Sunday in Sicily. With the ocean’s pristine blue waters serving as an ongoing hypnotizer, we lounged at a nearby beach for hours and talked about the pride we’d felt over the last few days while reveling in the sights and sipping one euro espressos, and how we really were eating and drinking the Sicilian way.