Heading west on a high, then things went slightly south

How we spent day 2, 3, and 4 in West Sicily

BAGLIO BUCCELLATO & TONNARA DI SCOPELLO

The only sense of time I had was the slit of the window above the piano in that small entrance, of the sky brightening from a dark navy to dusk to medium blue. At 7am when my hosts walked in, I looked up to an awakening sky blue. They offered me coffee. I had been up earlier and journaling in the hours, sitting on a lone sofa in the dark by the empty reception desk. I had my headphones blasting, accompanying my wide array of emotions in my morning mind, from peaceful piano melodies to explicit baddie hip hop beats, unsure of my feelings about this trip. My rocky start consisted of a horrendous layover in Barcelona, almost losing my drone the day after I got to meet kb, and being empty-minded when kb asked me a serious question. The thing is, that’s the way I usually am—anxious. I am in many places at once. I need time to think and reflect, because I’m absorbing so much.

Speaking of being in many places at once, I am writing this from a lake house near Ho Tuyen Lam Lake, south of Da Lat. It’s been quite peaceful, but I’ve been keeping busy. Every other day, I have adventures of visiting interesting places and meeting new people. I am still back-logged for a full month on all my travels. —Let me continue with Scopello. 

Inspired by the photo that kb sent over Instagram, I had set out to find a place nearby the tuna fishery, Tonnara di Scopello. On the shared image post from Instagram, there were two beach chairs positioned towards the sea with large cliffs in the distance. It seemed like an idyllic place to celebrate our friendship over the years. I booked a highly reviewed and affordable Italian bed and breakfast Baglio Buccellato months ago, and I could see why other folks found it charming as well. 

That morning view brought cliffs and tropical vegetation in the back and foreground. I slipped on sandals and a dark dusty pink gypsy dress, exposing my shins and toes to the fresh mud I slid over, walking the path from the gate to the entrance of the stay. On the side, folks at the neighboring market were setting up patio chairs, adding metal clanks to the sound of the chirping birds. They looked in my direction. I waved. They waved back in smiles. Buongiorno! 

Ciao! I exclaim.

Then came a miao! A wet, purring cat snuggled up to me and peeked at my coffee in hand. I took a video to show kb, whom confirmed to be a late riser, later.

After last nights’ storm, the morning smell of earth enhanced the smell of fallen jasmines. A large tree branch with pink hibiscus-like flowers wilted over the walk-path to our bed and breakfast. I woke up intending to see the sunrise with its vivacity, but I only woke up to the death of things – that sad tree and those flowers on death sentence.

I had always found the end of things fascinating. When we look at the science behind dying things, we can see how it decomposes, breaks down into simpler molecules and returns back to nature. The understanding of the cyclical nature reassures and reaffirms my belief that many things are meant to be appreciated. I find them everywhere, even in music.

Songs that have recurring themes, sounds that seem to circle around my head, going from left to right, then reprisals that give way to unexpected melodies – uncontrollably marionette my brain strings. It’s a recurring question that I ask myself. How would I choose to go about and move in this life? My head dances, but my body doesn’t. My physical vessel that is my body exists only to insert myself in different environments. I am only an observer.

It’s in the attempt of trying, waking up, that I find liberating. Baglio Buccelato, the sweet woman that served me espresso and breakfast, the curious cat, the reminder of nature’s cycle among the fallen jasmines, awoke my mind, hugged it, and sent me on my merry way to start the day.. I soon joined my friend, kb. I handed her a fragrant jasmine flower in bed. 

We got lucky. Apparently, the place of the two beach-chairs only opened twice a week, in limited hours. As soon as the storm passed, we were blessed with the luck that it was Tuesday, on one of the two days they were open, an afternoon without rain to enjoy the beach, and a flexible tour guide who moved my booked excursion to see the Segesta Temple the next day.

To get to the tuna fisherie, we drove a few minutes and walked down the cliffs. The shadow of shrubs, tall and short, graced kb’s back as I followed. Slowly, coming into view, large juts of rocks like pirate ships drew in as we came closer. My footfalls became lighter and I was ecstatic. How crazy it is that I once saw this very place on my phone screen — now it’s here! Reality was happening, and I was pinching myself if I were dreaming.

That afternoon spent with other beachgoers was quiet and simple. kb swam, and I sat, tanning, observing, taking photos of each other. We put sunscreen lotion on each other’s backs, and I disconnected my sensory touch to my brain that registers intimacy. It was nerve-wracking to intimately touch her. We, instead, resorted to feeling our surroundings, remarking the magnificent view, the aqua of the water, and our luck of the sun with few clouds in the sky. We slathered the lotions brusquely and looked out at the sea. Well, to be entirely honest, I couldn’t help but feel the canvas of her skin. I thought how little I come into contact with people in my life, and what a miracle it was to be with her and touch her, from phone screen to skin and bones. 

Prior to the trip, I bought us monogrammed Turkish towels with our names on them, so that she would get excited about the trip. We sat on those towels, and I felt like a kid again. I told kb that one of my most favorite feelings in the world was the sun on my back, and that I was very happy. We did it. We spent that afternoon in those two beach-chairs looking out to the sea in Scopello with each other. It made me realize the power of manifestation and instilled in me a confidence that I could make dreams come true. 

For some people, their fate and destiny lies in creating a novel, patenting a machine, and being an engineer. For me, I wondered if my fate in life would include being my best friend’s friend. We had explicitly stated that we wished to be together throughout all our lives, only platonic friendship in case we sabotage it, thus our gentle and necessary conversations. There were more important ways to be loved. 

We had a lot of tuna on our first two days. In the town’s center, we tried out two fancy restaurants and had more questions about each other. In the hours, we picked up on our habits, what each of our facial expressions meant, and how we behaved around other people. I noted that when she found the food displeasing, the top of her mouth scrunched. When given a menu, she asked a lot about the options and allowed the server to personally recommend her dishes. When not given the table she wanted, I saw her mind battling between fighting for it and letting it go. 

I noticed all these things, but I seemed too shy to speak up. Not only that, but whatever she seemed to think - I thought, too. And we’d learn those nights in bed when recounting our glimmer moments and the thing we would change about our day, that we both had the same thoughts — that earlier in the day, the two girls who took the scenic spot we wanted, though we were there first, probably deserved it — that the steak that was super overdone was not the only food that she would eat during the trip — that there were more worse things in life — and that there were better things ahead. We gave the benefit of doubt. Though I hope that my reactions did not reflect my ability to be vocal, I wished for my patience and understanding to be at the forefront of my character. We’d whisper to each other — you did great today, though. I see you, and today was beautiful. Believe your eyes, Thi. 

SEGESTA TEMPLE AND HOT SPRINGS

Day 4 of Sicily was a day dedicated to driving and brought us to Segesta Temple, a roman ruin that was still in great shape after many centuries. The day included an ATV drive closer to the mainland and a historical and informatic tour of the mainland of Sicily. It was also a selfish day for me, because I wanted to do something that would pump my adrenaline. kb, on the other hand, tended to view vacations as days of rest. It was a surprise excursion, actually, and I felt embarrassed by already buying the ticket. 

I learned my lesson to never pull surprises and always had to communicate what was going on. This brought a rift in our dynamic. I was glad she said, “yes,” as I took the risk of the nonrefundable ticket. And I got to be able to drive the ATV with the goofiest smile on my face. Rows and fields of vineyards whipped past us. The hard steering of the 4x4 rumbled our bodies on the off-beat paths. We rose through those hills and came to a hot spring that we learned was absolutely hot, so we only dipped our toes in and sat. I looked at my friend who I could see was trying her best to enjoy it, but I felt a little sad inside because I felt I forced her to join. It was, though, communicated two days ago, and we were sort of stuck together. 

When crossing creeks with water up to our knees, for the first time, she extended her hand towards me to hold. As the baby of the family, I am a sucker for hand-holding, and it is one of my favorite things to do. I am not sure if she knew how much that meant to me, but I will never forget that moment.

We drove through the hills again, zipping through more vineyards to eat a local specialty of sesame sandwich with tomato and cheese with the view of Segesta Temple in the back. We learned how it was built back in Roman times with a now dried-out valley that used to hold a deep river that allowed boats to float large heavy building stones to the top of the hill. We sat on the ground with my towel as a picnic blanket. I asked who she thinks she’ll end up with. She brought up her ex and confided that she thought of getting back together. My heart listened, but I still did not know where her mind was at. Here at Segesta or in Paris, with the other person. Careful to not project my feelings onto her, I saw her again, as a person of her own thoughts, her own life, in which I would seemingly only be an observer to. 

We continued with our ATV journey and came across my favorite glimmer for the day — the melon field. On the first day we met, in Palermo city, she offered me fresh cut fruits she bought at the market. In the container were cantaloupes, pineapples, and the best melon I had ever tasted. The bursting juicy flavor that resulted in my mouth made me gleefully cry aloud, “I’ve got to find out what these melons are!” 

We had no idea that those were, indeed, Sicilian melons, and there we stood, in the field, at the source of my wondrous experience. kb cut a deep yellow melon from its roots, handing it to the tour guide, for him to cut it open for us to eat fresh.

THEN THINGS WENT SOUTH

We rumbled through the fields back to our starting point to hit the road once more in our rental car to cruise the west coast of Sicily. We went to Mazaro del Vallo and walked down a pier on the bright sunny day where all shadows seemed harsh. We drove to Marsala to get gelato, only to find out that it was afternoon siesta and they were closed. Then, we went to Selinunte, in which we had a funny encounter in the gelaterie due to a language barrier. We sat then with our gelato in Selinunte, now looking at the south western coast of Sicily, in disappointment with her gelato flavor she didn’t want. Again, I am not sure why I didn’t interject to help out on the things she found displeasing. I think that, for me, it was my way of giving her her own space, as I felt if I intervened, I would be seen as controlling. I sat with my gelato, inputting the scenery in my head. There wasn’t much to see where we sat. The sea was in the distance and the roofs of the houses we saw were still and unoccupied as it was a hot, blazing evening, and probably everyone was at work in this small town. The afternoon was underwhelming and I wasn’t sure if my friend enjoyed the day. 

The boring view in Selinunte —

We then drove east towards Sciacca, our next stay. I came across twice the sea glistening at the road ahead. I looked over to see that my friend was not with me. It was understandable that after 36 hours of being around each other that we would need some alone time. I began to feel tired and anxious again, desiring to recharge like that morning in Baglio Buccellato. 

My social battery was at 12% when we arrived at our AirBNB in Sciacca. When we came into the old historic southern city, we met our host, a middle-aged man who had… 165% energy. At the hotel, we were pinned to the front desk with the talkative man who then depleted our energies down to 2%. Even though we were nice girls, we could not escape his talk. All he did was talk! I had barely enough energy for dinner later that day. I was feeling like I was losing a sense of myself. After adamantly saying we wished to go to our room, I plopped down on the bed. After settling in, I resorted to FaceTiming my little cousin to catch up, as I found out she just got engaged. kb was in the shower and I hid away on the patio balcony. When she finished, she left to catch the sunset herself and I cried in bed, wondering why I have chosen to be so far from my family and why I, even here, felt so distant from my friend. I reached out to my trusted writer friend, Paola, originally from Brazil but now in Germany, about my frustrated feelings. She helped a lot as I vented. 

I was to meet kb for pizza in a nearby plaza later, and I wanted to bring up the idea of us spending the next  day alone, for us to recharge. The truth was that I was beginning to feel sad about our chemistry. I thought time would pass by quickly when together, and it would have been all glorious. However, I felt a gap which was hard for me to accept — that I wouldn’t be really present with her all my life, but only a friend to meet briefly at checkpoints in our life stages. I was afraid of this attachment. And I was afraid again to feel so alone. It was the feeling of feeling alone when you’re with somebody. 

(It is natural to begin to feel tired around someone you’ve been around for 4 days straight, especially when meeting them for the first time in a foreign country. I was just too tired to process that at the moment, resulting in me sobbing in bed.)

I was to spend the next 8 days with her, and I felt disappointed — even after all the happier things lately. It seemed to me that I hit a wall as thick as the San Salvatore Gate when entering Sciacca. Maybe it’s all in the nature of growing. The end of things. I didn’t know it then, but in retrospect, it must have been in the nature of growing everyday. It was reality, and reality was that with or without my friend, in the disconnects, I must enjoy this journey myself.

The next newsletter is about our honest dinner afterwards that changed and challenged perspectives around that day and our next destination in the center of Sicily — the cliffy town of Polizzi Generosa.