Adventures in Sicily 2012

It was with a great deal of trepidation that I stepped onto the train at Milano Centrale for the ride south to Sicily. I come from Northern Europe and look it, with my pale skin, blond-ish hair and light eyes. So I knew I was going to stick out like a sore thumb in a place like Sicily. Added to that was the fact that many guide books warned women traveling alone to be wary of Italian men, who, I was told, would take one look at me and conclude that I had come all the way to Sicily to have a romance with them. 

The thought made me cringe. 

And so I made sure to bring a wardrobe of long skirts, jewel necks and long sleeves.

I hadn’t expected the journey to be so long. I hadn’t expected to have to change trains in Rome from a sleek modern commuter train, to a rackety old-fashioned number, where the only place to put your suitcases was in the rack above the seats. Fortunately, I was sitting in a carriage with a polite young man who helped me. 

That was the other thing that bothered me – young men. Last time I was in Italy, I was in my twenties and couldn’t sit on a park bench without being bothered. But by this time, I was old enough to be this young man’s mother, and he treated me with great respect. We fell into a conversation, and because he was so friendly, I confided my worries to him. What did he think of my outfit? Did it look respectable enough? He assured me I looked fine, and that many women in Sicily felt comfortable enough to wear modern clothes.

And that is how my visit turned out to be. The young men I met were universally charming and polite, eager to practice their English on me. The problem that I had was with older Italian men, those around my own age. Even though I claimed to be sessanta (sixty) and the one who was chatting me up said he was only fifty-four, it was a little difficult to get rid of them. But I came to no harm, and have wonderful memories of this jewel of an island. 

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