Sitting at office and watching the gloomy sky outside the window (seriously, Paris?), I am still settling in the post-vacation itch, both of my soul and my sunburned shoulders.
Sicilia is an astonishing, vival yet rugget island that was way bigger than we anticipated. Although not unfamiliar with the map of the region, I somehow pictured it as an intimate tiny island where you can circle around the beach by bikes with cute Italian baskets. While this picture was entirely wrong, as Palermo was actually a very crowded city with wide streets and insane traffics, the “living is all about good food and a family to share it with” mentality seems to be remained on this land.
We decided we didn’t want to be tourists walking around the site but just wanted to be lazy in the sun, catching up with some readings (I know, I feel old), so we managed to find a beach house which was literally five steps away from the water on Airbnb, a train ride away from Palermo. It turned out to be in a small village with absolutely no tourists. People actually stare at us two Asian girls with curiosity on the street, which was not unpleasant at all due to their friendly expressions.
Y, my girlfriend since college, with whom I shared a tiny bedroom with two other girls for four years, also lives in Paris. When we were 18, the university stipulated that lights must be cut off at 11p.m. in the dorm. It was extremely unhumane and ridiculous but also gave us a lot of opportunities to chitchat, since that was the only thing we could do in the dark. We would just lie down on our own beds and talk about school, future, boys, dreams and those things 18 year olds would normally talk about until we all fall asleep.
Life is strange like that. We were lying in darkness talking about our bright future in Beijing, having absolutely no idea where we will end up in a few years. 9 years later somewhere in Sicily, we were lying under the sun remembering those days in our dark dorm room, still have no idea where all of this is going.