Yesterday afternoon, as I got back to my room the clouds broke and the humidity disappeared.  A lot of rain then ensued on my balcony so I holed up watching the lightning. A big three masted barque was putting out to sea, disappearing into the low cloud.

What a lovely hotel I’d snagged here. And to be marooned for an extra night was no hardship.

By 5pm I’d heard nothing from Francesco. Nobody was picking up the phone. So I got in a cab and went to see what was cooking. 
‘You need a new transmitter. We have ordered one but it won’t be here this week.’ 
Today was Thursday. I had a ferry crossing to Sardinia on Sunday.
‘When next week?’
He shrugged. ‘Next week. You can take the car and drive short distances.’
‘What about as far as Palermo?’
‘I advise not.’
‘What might happen if I do?’
‘The problem is a coolant temperature transmitter. It could mean the car might overheat and stop the engine.’
‘I see, like a sensor? Fine, give me the part number and I’ll try to pick one up en route’
‘Certo’
‘What about the brakes?’
He put his hands out, palms upturned, pursed his lips and closed his eyes. ‘Not a problem.’
Really?!  Okay sod it. No risk no fun. This last bit I muttered to myself but he overheard. 
‘Giusto.’ he said looking at me in that sad Italian way. God…he was going to break some hearts. Not least his mother’s.
Next morning.  Beautiful sunlight on the buildings.
We passed an open air church.
We ignored Francesco’s advice and got on the road to Palermo. With everything crossed. 
The road goes cross country. Past the mountain-top towns of Enna and Caltinesetta. Over roads on stilts above marshes. Prickly pear… everywhere. 
Then into some tunnels so badly lit we felt like we were inside a coal mine. On the other side of the mountains, as we came out of the final tunnel, heavy rain. The wipers could barely cope.
Then flying through the outskirts of Palermo. Dicing with the mid-morning traffic, the mad filtering of roads – making for split-second judgements – and the potholes…naturally. 

A quick pitstop at Monreale. A cathedral on a hill in a suburb of Palermo.  A long history entangled with Arab invasion and later Norman patronage, it has a reputation for mosaics. This is stuff much later than the Byzantine but still impressive. 

The main apse is huge and very high which shows its Norman architecture. 
Then a series of side chapels. All very ornate. 
I’d paid 13 euros and had spent about the same number of minutes inside. 
Back in Palermo I found a garage and went to the hotel. All I could find was a tenth floor bar of that name and that was shut. Great view though. 
Called them up and they said they would meet me there. The rooms were on the same floor.
It was all a bit like a hostel but it was organised and clean. I just hoped the two person lift didn’t break down.
I headed out for a walk. I found Palermo as annoying as I had on previous occasions.  Hard nosed and everyone on the make. It just lacks charm for me and although it’s right on the coast, there are no views of the sea. A squint down a boulevard reveals that someone has parked a cruise ship across it. 
Found a fish joint at the end of the famous Vucceria market. I was here five years ago and it is almost a joke that it is so revered and signposted when it is but a shadow of its former self. The food was fine but it was all plastic glasses and cutlery and twice the price of Catania.
Sauntering back. Some nice buildings. 
I thought to myself. I’m not sure I can spend another day here. But Pedders needed rest and was probably blocked in the underground parking until Sunday.