And how is Sicily Trip going, You may ask.
And ask You may and shall.
Let Us put it this way.
Yours Truly just returned from historical out the wazoo Taormina with cohort Mary of LaTeeDa fame in a man named Nino's luxe automobile after giving our expensive tour group the slip (as well as the pesky intra-ear devices one of the guides called the whisper but which YT calls just plain annoying) and YT trekked to the highest point of the city basking in sunshine and wild plants and aloe vera and cactii as big as cars. We gave the slip as I am wont to do and that is when best photos and mems are made. After my trek to the top and making some images of a demi-grotto church and all and talking to some scientists in for a gathering of same, found Mary at bottom of stone steps (all 6 million or so of them) and wended about a different direction, toward the sea. It was several moments-miles later that we realized we might never see that piazza and designated time. Oh well and hell we both said and proceeded to further enjoy the sun and view and time.
Mary said let's hitch.
Four seconds later we were in Nino's luxe car, the three of us singing How Deep Is Your Love by the ever-famous Australian Brotherly Outfit the BeeGees.
Nino, seemingly like all extra-tour men we have met, owns a trattoria.
Trattoria Nino.
I mentioned the bus stop and that we would like to end up near the one about 10 minutes from our hotel - Sant Alphio Garden Hotel (run by a hardass, ever-beshaded quasi-mafioso who is about 4'7" and who shook me and Mary down for another 35Euros each to upgrade to a shared suite with balcony over sea after we saw our own respective and deplorably under-starred chambers). This was very kind of Nino and only about 2 minutes out of his way. This means that we not only gave the group the slip but saw several more momentous things and met yet another local ... and beat these groupies back to the hotel which I stated looks like something out of Vegas or Israel. Mary has redubbed it, more appropriately, Salvatore's Italian Gardens.
And so it is.
Time to have some Asti by the pool, under the palm trees.
Is it that warm.
Uhh, nope, but hell if I'll admit to that.

Seaside love, Love.