|Cappo Gallo, Sicily|
21st Birthday: Was in Palermo, Sicily, at the end of my Italy trip. My Scottish friend, Alyson, also partaker in recent Portugal trip, and I went to a little cafe we had found where the owner promised to make us “a real Sicilian meal.” He had no idea it was my birthday, but we ended up eating something like a 7 course meal, with the waiter and other people making us special dishes. I’ve never felt so guilty about not eating something and so horribly full. We then went to a secluded rock beach where there were a few scattered locals and the clearest of the clear Mediterranean water.
That evening, the Sicilians we were staying with had an aperitivo, or cocktail hour, with Sicilian snacks and sweet Vermouth, to celebrate.
|My 23rd Birthday (I’m on the right)|
Being from LA, Bakersfield doesn’t seem far away, it being a two hour drive. But the locals viewed things as entirely different worlds. It reminded me of being back in Britain, where the same distance causes even more rifts being populations.
We continued with the rest of dinner: pasta, fried chicken, oxtail stew, french fries, bread, beets, blue cheese, cottage cheese, and at last, ice cream. It had a candle for me. Oh, and there were bottles of wine and water on the table that came as part of the meal. And a cup of coffee in a mug that looked like it belonged to one of the chefs in the back.
My great-great-grandmother ran several boarding houses in LA around the same time this place opened up, and I could only imagine it was pretty similar. However, the one major difference: my great-great grandmother was famous for her fruit pies.
We were told we’d have to come back again, and I’m pretty sure we will.