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| A beautiful morning....sunny, clear, warm but with a slight nip in the air. We both sleep through the night and hope that jet lag will not rear its ugly head. Since we don't get breakfast included with the room--it costs Euro 11 extra--we head out in search of a bar for our tea/coffee and cornetti. We walk toward the main street and duck into a very small bar with just enough room at the counter for three people. The pastries look good and fresh, so we decide to stay. The cappuccino is excellent as are the pastries and we strike up a conversation with the owner--a man in his 60s. It turns out that he has spent several summers at his relative's restaurant on Lake George--he makes the pizzas at the Spaghetti House--and we have a nice conversation about our travels and his experience. When we finish, he says "A domani" (see you tomorrow), so I guess we have found our bar for our stay in Trapani. After breakfast, we head out for a stroll around Trapani...we walk through the public gardens, through some of the shopping streets in the "centro storico"--first some of the regular neighborhood stores and then through the fancier shopping streets--which are quite fashionable and very attractive. We end up at the Fish Market which has about 10 stalls...not all fish -- in an old building at the head of one of the fashionable shopping streets and along the waterfront. The first stall is manned by a very aggressive salesman who vigorously presses samples of cheese, pieces of smoked tuna, tuna bresaola, and bottarga (preserved tuna roe) on us. Diana feels obligated to buy something--there is seemingly no way to refuse him--so we buy a half kilo of local pecorino--about Euro 9. I think we ended up paying for all the samples he gave us..... We hurriedly leave the markets, avoiding any additional proffers of samples from the other vendors. We walk down the street that overlooks the water.....the backs of the houses on this street have terrific views over the Mediterranean. We pass a small group of fishermen mending their nets and painting their boats beside a small cove and continue out to the end of the walkway, which is one of the old guard towers from the defensive wall that surrounded Trapani. The day could not be nicer.....the air is clear and we have wonderful views along the coast and up to the hill town of Erice that sits on top of the 3,000 foot high mountain just over the town. We head back along the southern flank of the town...the commercial port...and I stop at the ferry terminal to get schedules for the boats to the Egadi Islands--just a few miles from Trapani. We decide it is a good day for a picnic, so we buy some bread, meat and cheese. We have a nice interchange with the old couple that run the alimentari where we buy our supplies. We then get in the car and head up the coast toward San Vito Lo Capo, a beach resort about twenty miles to the north and east of Trapani. En route, we stop in a small port town of Tonnara di Bonagia....there is small harbor, some restaurants and a new hotel built in the shell of an old tonnara--where they processed the tuna catch in the old days. [NOTE: Trapani and the nearby islands are on the route of the tuna migration through the Mediterranean and historically the locals have developed an efficient and bloody procedure for capturing and killing the tuna--it is called "La Mattanza (literally the slaughter in Spanish). The catch has dwindled over the years, but local tuna is still on every menu in the area.] We set up our picnic on the wall that lines the harbor.....good local bread, salami, cheese, strawberries....nothing could be more idyllic. After eating, while I am throwing out the garbage, I hear Diana scream and see her running somewhere. Her purse has been snatched by two young men, whom we had seen hanging around the dock but had thought nothing of. They waited for their opportunity--Diana had taken out her camera and was taking a picture of the little cove and her purse was unattended. In an instant, one had jumped down from the top of the wall, grabbed the purse and jumped on the motorcycle which the other thief was driving. They quickly disappear behind the hotel on some footpaths and are nowhere to seen. There is little money in the purse--perhaps 5 euros, but there are our passports, credit cards, house keys, drivers license and address books. Luckily Diana had put our airline tickets in our suitcase so they are not lost. And luckily no one was hurt, but it is still going to be a pain--cancelling credit cards, getting new passports, etc. Fortunately I have a cash card and a credit card separate from Diana so even if the cards are cancelled, we can still get cash and pay for things with a credit card. I run into the hotel and the desk clerk calls the carabinieri to report the theft. An Italian couple who are sitting in their car offer their sympathy but there is no sign of the thieves. We have to drive to the next town to make our report to the police.....since we have lost our passports, we need to have an official police report to expedite their replacement as well as to confirm the theft for insurance and credit card purposes. We arrive at the carabinieri office and a young officer lets us in. We wait around for a while in a somewhat smelly office while they track down the boss who has to take the report. When the boss arrives, he spends what seems an inordinate amount of time looking up things....it turns out he is looking for the correct multilingual form for the "denuncia" where we explain the circumstances and he certifies the report. The report is filed, we are given a copy and we leave....handshakes all around. He tells us that often the purse with its non-cash contents is retrieved but I wonder if that is an "urban myth". We drive back to the scene of the crime--perhaps we will see the thieves or at least find the discarded purse...but there is no sign of either. It is a sad drive back to Trapani...... Back in the hotel, we discuss our options. I call the consultate in Palermo but they are only open in the mornings so I call Naples. They tell me that only Rome and Naples can issue replacement passports, but since we have copies of the passports and the police report, we should be able to use them as our documents when checking into hotels. We will get the replacements in Rome the first week in June, before we leave Italy. In an effort to move on, we find a nice shop on the main shopping street and within 15 minutes, the purchase of a new purse and wallet is made. We go to dinner tonight in the old Jewish quarter....at a Slow Food recommended place called Cantina Siciliana. There is no room for us in the front room but we are seated in the rear room--Siberia--which also fills up quickly. The food is excellent; the house wine is mediocre. We both have the local specialty--cuscus with fish broth. Cuscus is common in western Sicily...it is less than 100 miles from Tunisia and the Arab influence is strong. It is a wonderful dish...the fish broth (and pieces of fish) is flavorful, yet delicate. For seconds, I have a swordfish dish--pesce spada pantesca (in the style of the island of Pantelleria, located between Sicily and Africa)--the sauce is tomatoes, almonds and capers and it is excellent. Diana has the involtini of pesce spada (rolls of fish stuffed with a bread crumb mixture) and lightly fried--very nicely done. Diana has a Sicilian version of "sgroppino"--a slush made of lemon gelato and limoncello--very refreshing. We head straight back to the hotel and collapse. PS from Diana. This was an upsetting experience. Eleven years ago, Jim was pickpocketed on a crowded bus in Rome, but nothing else along these lines had happened to us in c. 15 trips to Italy. And nothing much in the States either. It's shocking, and one feels such an idiot- in hindsight, they were clearly checking us out - why hadn't I left the purse lockd in the car - or held onto it or left the passports in the hotel room - etc., etc. Anyway, it's done with and luckily, we are not fearful travelers, I will be a bit more careful, but will not let this mess up our trip. Now if only the missing suitcase would turn up. Have just finished and can highly recommend Frank Rich's memoir - Ghost Light. He grew up in the very Southern, segregated Washington of the 50's and 60's ...describes a Deal JHS and Wilson HS that are unrecognizable to us today. His family life was very difficult but he had a passion-really obsession with theater which transformed his life. He's a very good writer as those of us know who read him on Sunday in the NY Times, and this is a fascinating, moving book. |
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