Palermo

Our first foray into Palermo was simply to get through town on our way back from Monreale. That was a harrowing experience with traffic every which way and moving at a pace much faster than Trapani. As the Rouph Guide says, "he who hestiates is lost and go for the gap."  We had no map with us so we were looking for signage. That is always a dicey tactic as the signs are frequent but conflicting. We do better going by Greg's city planner instincts. Since it took an hour to get through town traffic, we were not keen on going there again. 

Marie and Antonio, Pia and Steffen's aunt and uncle, live in Palermo. They advised that we must go to Antica Focacceria San Francisco. It is been open since 1834. The pizzeria reminds me a lot of Gamer's in Butte with its round marble top tables and ice cream parlor cast-iron chairs. A wrought iron balcony overlooks the main floor from which you can view the coming and goings of diners. When we dropped by another day so I could get a photo, group of children were practicing a dance in the square with many mother's hovering about taking pictures. 

They said we should have "street food." I tried the focaccia with a little tomato sauce. The vendor ran some olive oil over it. I added some hot dried peppers. I liked it: it was fresh and hot on a cool day. We wandered through the open market until time to head to the airport.

On March 18, Jean and Chris left at noon and Randy did not arrive until 6 pm at the Palermo airport. My stint of driving was behind me as Greg was solo on the rental agreement for the rest of the trip. Previous trauma uneasily behind us, we drove into Palermo. It took us a long time to find a parking place. In one square the signs indicated towing but lots of cars were parked there. Greg parked. I thougth not. He tried another spot which he thought was safe. I worried that our car would be towed and leave Randy stranded at the airport. Ultimately we paid to park in a parking garage.