When it Rains…
So, there’s this thing called a “Medicane”…like a hurricane in the Med
I just moved my chair for the third time to dodge a new leak in the roof. It's been raining, hard, since about three hours after we landed in Sicily -at 1 am two days ago. Our farmhouse is lovely and eclectic, but it is also very old -hence several root leaks, odd plumbing, and irregular sounds that are either the house settling or friendly ghosts saying hi.
Buckets to catch rain from the ceiling
I'm grateful that there was a break in the rain for several hours after we landed (despite regular lightning overhead) because the scrum for taxis at 2 am made my rugby days seem like schoolyard tag. After losing out to serval more aggressive Sicilians, Theresa and her dad doubled teamed a cab, outmaneuvering several other folks, and took the first group out. A half-hour later, Angela, Billy, Paul, and I got a second taxi in an expensive negotiation.
When we finally arrived at our place, our driver dropped us near, but not at, where we were going. We walked up a pitch-black alley, lightning still crashing, to find the gate had broken in between when the first group arrived and our arrival.
The lovely landlady came down and wrestled with it for a while before it popped open. We hiked up another hundred yards to our place. She had left us a stunning spread of bread, meats, and cheeses (plus wine). We laughed in relief at having gotten over the hump & safely to what should have been a restful several weeks in Theresa's family's ancestral homeland of Sicily.
I have never been so happy to be warm, dry, safe, and eating Italian meats and cheeses
Alas, it was not to be.
At 3:30 am we got the news that Theresa's uncle Roger had died, likely of a heart attack, at the age of 63. Her brother David found him in a hunting stand on their property after he didn't come home.
Roger was the middle of 5 brothers and the first to pass, leaving behind 3 kids and a grandson who lived with him.
Frantic googling got flights home two days later for all the Grano's. I will stay here with the kids. It started pouring down rain again.
Roger, you’ll be missed
The next day, our rockstar landlady sent us the number of the car service she recommended so I could go get the rental car we had booked, but couldn’t pick up because our flight was so delayed. She did caution me, "Rain is a lot. Maybe order groceries online and get car tomorrow?"
Undaunted by rain, having survived driving in Albania and Montenegro, I was undaunted.
Next time: be daunted I met the cab at the base of the hill, after wrestling the gate open again, grateful for my Quickflip raincoat that had mostly been serving as a day pack on the trip (shameless plug for my buddy's company). The driver + I had a lovely conversation through Google translate's voice recognition. He endeavored to play tour guide, while simultaneously slaloming through water often up to the middle of his tires and/or being splashed in blinding waves onto. the windshield by passing cars.
These pictures do not do it justice.
The driver advised me to get a truck, which (man, I love technology) I was able to reserve on my phone while driving in.
Alas, the only trucks were too small for our purposes - the rain on the way back to the house had intensified, so I used the operating principle that if I saw three other cars drive through a spot I would follow, but not until then.
I made it back to the the house, where Theresa, Billy, and I made a supply run to the grocery to make a farewell dinner for the whole crew and be sure I didn’t have to leave again for a few days with the kids.
It was…nasty. We didn’t know quite how nasty until a few days later (video below).
We returned with ingredients for fajita night and enough pasta and bread for a small army. The house has a pool table, movie room, and internet. We had been pretty constantly on the move for 5 days, and I wasn’t entirely sad about a few cozy days writing, reading, and playing with the kids.
Sicily had another joke in mind for us. When we woke to still pouring rain so I could take the Granos to the airport, we found the gate now locked again. Another (6:30am) call to the landlady and poking around in the innards of the mechanism led to a MacGyver moment, enabling us to escape.
Mentally add rain. Lots of rain.
As we navigated through the flooded streets, with water pouring down the hills into what will likely be the Grano's only view of Catania en route to his brother's funeral, Bill said, "You know, if we didn't have moments like these, we wouldn't appreciate all the good moments nearly so much."
Warm and dry again, having moved my chair and added another pot to catch a different leak, I could not agree more.
