drinks for due

After a Saturday afternoon exploring Palermo we were walking along minding our own business. Enjoying the sidewalk (there actually was one), keeping an eye out for when the sidewalk might unexpectedly cease to exist, and doing our best to ignore Palermo's most heavily-used communication method: the car horn.

We were feeling a bit worn as we'd woken up in Milan at 3:30am that morning. That's early enough that you can call your family back in the States and they won't have gone to bed yet. I know this because I called my Mom. And she hadn't gone to bed.

At 4:30am the cab came and dropped us off at the train station. We had to catch a bus to the airport because the train wasn't running yet. Too early for the train is definitely too early for humans. So we waited for the 5:00am bus to Malpensa. Sure, we could pop for an 80 euro cab ride but that means we'd have to feel equally good about similarly wise uses of money such as dental floss made of gold and 6 inch crocodile stilettos.

When the bus finally decided to stop taunting us from a block away - where it had been parked for a good ten minutes - and drive on over, we boarded. I should point out that the ragazzo (young man) driving the bus was listening to dance music. Very rapid dance music. And it was still pitch black out. It really felt like we were going to a dance club along with a busload of our newest friends and all of our suitcases.



Once on the road we realized that the layer of fog we awaken to every morning in gray Milan ain't nothin'. It's but a sad little sheet of air that needs a diet so it hangs low. On the highway to the airport we saw real fog. Fog so thick you couldn't see anything more than a few feet in front of you. Nothing. And this is a few feet in front of a bus driving on the highway...

Luckily we got off the highway for a few miles and instead tried our luck with winding roads and fewer street lights. And as soon as we'd gotten back on the highway - dance music still thumping - we got caught in a traffic jam. Nothing like a 5am traffic jam in dense fog to drench you with positive feelings and excitement for the weekend. And the cherry on top? That was the 5 car pile-up we drove past along the side of the road.

But rest assured we made it to Malpensa on time. Only had two Italians cut in front of us in line and they made the rare gesture of asking if it was okay as they did so. Our plane had understandable problems taking-off on time but once in the air it was but a mere hour and a half to Palermo.

We landed on Sicilia (Sicily) under a golden sun, amidst palm trees and blue sky. What a gorgeous difference - it felt like summer with spring temperatures.

But after a day of exploring wild Palermo (more entries to follow) our early morning wake-up was dragging us down.

That's when we passed the pictured vendor across from the Duomo. We'd not have noticed it except for the sharp and enticing scent of lemons that wrapped around us both as we walked by. It was the scent of a field of lemons split open, lemony goodness absolutely everywhere.

But it was really just in this little stand. And more importantly, it was in what the two people standing in front of it were drinking.



We ordered two. Immediately. And watched the barman craft them. There were fresh lemons and fresh oranges. Seltzer and syrup. The whole thing was shaken and stirred until it developed a froth and all the bits of lemon pulp had floated to the top.

It was a wild ride, this drink. Tart beyond tart. Biting and fizzy. Great and unbearable all at once. Hallelujah for a challenge. And I feel no less a woman for asking for a bit of sugar. And then some more.

I can't tell you what the drink was called. But I can tell you where to go. Across the street from the Palermo Duomo. It's in an alley nook of sorts and it's manned by one guy. Unless he has to step away for a minute and then his friend covers for him. Don't ask his friend what the drink is called, he doesn't know.

And neither do we. We just know that it tastes like Palermo in the early evening after a long day of travel and sun. And car horns. In Palermo you just can't escape the car horns.