And One for Fishy, Spawn of Asmodeus
The four of us woke up early and walked to the bus station, where we grabbed a bus to Catania. When we arrived, Clotilde and Camille got paninis or something for a quick lunch. Will and I, as Americans and men, craved something more substantial. Therefore, we went to some small trattoria run by an old Italian man with a partially-burned-but-unlit cigarette that never left his mouth. Will had spaghetti alla carbonara and I had spaghetti al ragú. They were tasty.
We caught up with Clotilde and Camille. They had found Clotilde’s friend, Matteo. Matteo was pretty cool. He showed us where we could leave our backpacks safely, and we all hopped on a train to Taormina. We had kind of a long climb. There was an okay view, I guess.
Matteo showed us where to get really good gelato. I had cantaloupe and strawberry, and Will had lemon and mint. It was awesome. Taormina also had a cool Greco-Roman theater.
Throughout these two days with our new French partners in crime, we’ve had a sort of ongoing debate about France and America with Clotilde (she’s the talkative one, remember?). Clotilde tried to explain to us how awesome France is. For example, on the topic of cars, she asked us, “You know Alfa Romeo, right? Everyone knows Alfa Romeo!” Will and I agreed that we knew it: it’s the NATO Phonetic Alphabet name for a line of assault rifles (AR-10, AR-15). Apparently, it’s a French car company. Who knew?
We think America is the best country in the world, but I think most people think their country is the best in the world. “Don’t you love France?” we would ask her. In this vein, I should probably mention that Clotilde has some sort of weird cheese-obsession complex, but I think this might just be normal for her nationality. She loves cheese, and she claimed that we, as Americans, didn’t know what good cheese was. Will and I do not claim to have the arcane cheese-knowledge that she has, but we do think she needs to try a good sharp cheddar. Vermont or Wisconsin or something.
Furthermore, Clotilde thought that Will and I were constantly talking about how awesome America is (sometimes we are, but more often, we aren’t). Will and I would be talking about something unrelated, like feudal England, and Clotilde would say, “Stop talking about America!” Or, more often, we’d be talking about stuff we didn’t understand or stuff we don’t have in America, like cars with a cool lion logo. Still, “Stop talking about America!” It was funny.
` Anyways, Taormina had a BEACH. It was kind of rocky, but most of the rocks were smooth. Matteo, being Italian, stripped down to a terrifyingly small and tight Speedo. It was scary. Will, Camille, Matteo, and I went swimming. Clotilde stayed on the beach. I think the water was too cold for her or something. Will, being himself, swam out to a pretty distant rock. He then swam around this big island thing. Look, there he is in the distance!
While we were waiting for Will to return from his adventure, Camille tried to dunk me. She ended up basically lifting herself in the air on my shoulders and totally failing to dunk me. I showed her how to do it properly, and was thoroughly (and probably deservedly) splashed for my lesson.
Will took a while to come back, so Matteo, Camille, Clotilde, and I split a bottle of wine. Finally, Will returned looking happy and the five of us had a long-ass walk back to the train. There, we retrieved our stuff and walked to the hostel. We checked into the hostel and left our bags.
Camille and Clotilde took a shower. Will and I noticed that there was a 2-for-1 happy hour downstairs, so we left a note for them and went to the bar. I got two Leffe (Belgian beer, delicious), and Will got two Stella Artois. We traded so that we would have one of each. Eventually, they caught up, found Matteo, and had a beer with us. Matteo’s friend, whose name I cannot recall, joined us for dinner. For dinner, Clotilde and I had rigatoni alla norma (tomato sauce with parmesan in the sauce). Camille had a seafood pasta dish, Will had a huge-ass calzone, and Matteo’s friend had some vegetarian pizza, and Matteo had…something pasta-y. I don’t remember.
After dinner, we went to a bar and Will briefly went against Matteo shot-for-shot. They drank a local liqueur called Mt. Etna Fire. They had a few of those, then absinthe, then tequila, and then Matteo gave up. He looked like he was going to get sick. Will was sad because he didn’t even have a buzz. I only had a beer, but it was tasty. Finally, we went back to the hostel. Will and I had an early train, so we said our goodbyes to our French travel buddies.
Here we are, all of us together. I’ll miss our crazy French friends (Clotilde, if you mail us some “real cheese,” we’ll mail you some sharp cheddar!). I’ll especially miss Camille; she was awesome.
Will, Andy, Camille, Clotilde, Matteo, and Matteo's buddy
As a sidenote, Will has been struggling with the European cheek-kiss-on-both-sides thing since we met Rosa. Tonight, while saying goodbye to our French friends, we discovered that he has not improved. It’s still awkward and confusing for him.
Will’s Corner
Drinking I get. Weird European greeting things not so much. I’ll stick to drinking Europeans under the table.
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Dear Joe,
Fly like an eagle. But, like, an awesome eagle with laser vision, lightning bolts, and stuff. Yeah!
Love,
Will and Andy
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