On the beach – Day 36

If you wanted to lock your door you had to do it from outside. Then you slammed it shut. Pressing the bar to exit like in a theatre.

They must have found these doors cheap somwhere because even the bathroom had one. Nasty.

In the bathroom. The very bright lights and – very noisy fan – worked on a proximity sensor. So popping in there during the night was a proper wake up call. I tried to play statues but there was no escaping it.

And then of course, the fact that the hotel had no street entrance apart from a tiny lift to the tenth floor ‘Sky Bar’. Which was closed at night.

I’d asked the owner to print my ferry tickets. I emailed them to him and he’d hand cranked his ancient computer into action. By nightfall it had finished updating and the printer smoked into life.

Although I’d pointed out that I only needed pages 1 and 3 with the barcodes on. He printed all eight pages including the terms and conditions and had somehow managed to also print four copies. He was rather dismayed as he handed over a small telephone book of A4 paper.

‘You give hotel 10 star review.’ he demanded. 

Hmmm…not sure.

4am a big row from the French couple in the room next door. The word putain came through loud and clear. This was then followed by a lot of hissed murmuring. Then headboard banging for what seemed like 20 minutes. But we men are never good at gauging time in such situations. Then quiet. Either they had made up big time or he had brained her against the bed rail. I wasn’t particularly bothered either way.

It had rained a lot in the night. But it had also rained in my room. The air conditioning unit had dripped water over my passport and money. Also the ferry tickets which I carefully peeled apart and laid out on the bed to dry. I couldn’t face the owner having to print them again. 

Streetside, there was a smell of fishy sewers. Lovely!  Palermo I am trying to love you but you won’t love me back.

I made my way skipping puddles – and dodging a drowning from passing cars. The bus stop was quite a hike. If I had the nous I would have taken a bus to get there. But information was non-existent.

The 806 was like something out of Harry Potter. It fairly hacked along reaching speeds of around 60 mph and showering pedestrians in muddy water from the puddles.  In about thirty minutes and for just €1.40, we reached the seaside town of Mondello. I was early and had arrived with the help.

Lowering clouds made me take shelter in a café where two very good coffees were consumed. And also where I was bitten several times by mosquitoes also trying to keep out of the rain.

Then it brightened and I thought I’ve got a chance of a decent day at the beach.

I was about to negotiate a bed and brolly deal when the heavens opened and I was forced back under an awning. It really set in now and I was getting soaked. The bus was approaching on the other side of the street so I hailed the driver and he stopped.

Back in the smoke, I paid a visit to Pedro to get a change of footwear. He was behind six lines of cars at the very back. I must have looked a little dismayed because the attendant was at pains to assure me that by tomorrow morning he’d be at the front.

Then I found  an unassuming and totally brilliant trattoria.  I had fettuccine with a thick seafood ragu, prawns and pistachios.  Superb.  On the next table were two girls and a guy from Hannover.  They were here for the football game. I wished them good luck.

‘We love London.  We know all the Weatherspoons.’

Just outside I spotted a cousin of Pedro’s.  So this is what he would look like once he’d lost all his varnish..?