General events (& minor Patreon problem) plus The Galacon/Sicily Trip, Part 8: Trapani/Erice: Hastily-Made Cloudsdale Tourism Video · 8:04pm March 31st
In the present, I haven't been having a good couple of days.
There are those far worse off than I am, of course. SilverNotes is still feeling the fiscal fallout from previous events, and that's one of the reasons I swore I'd get a blog up today. I wanted to get Silver's Ko-Fi link posted again. And their Patreon.
As for my own sponsor page... I do have to mention the return of an old problem, and this is the only way I can try to make contact and resolve it. The issue? I'm guessing it's an expired payment method: one pledge has vanished from the rolls without having a formal notice of that sponsor's departure, and when the pledge remains uncollected for a full month, it's more than just a bank error. But the last time we did this, it was four people, so... at least now I'm only trying to alert one. If you're one of my sponsors and you never got a pledge receipt for March, please check whatever card is registered with Patreon and, if needed, update it for April. Should you wish to make up for March's uncollected amount, just use my Ko-Fi jar.
Which, I guess, would bring us to the current State Of The Ponicon Drive. As of this writing, it's at 8% of goal. This isn't a disaster number, and doesn't represent a give-up point. I have until January 31st of 2025 to reach the target. Eight percent per month, every month, between now and then -- would leave me 12% short. But that's a number where I could at least try to make up the difference, so... here's hoping for at least eight more percentage points in April. While trying very hard not to think about how much that actually represents. And if you're among the very few who've been reading and enjoying these travel blogs, please consider tipping toward a future Japan edition.
So why has it been a rough couple of days for me?
Yesterday, I lost my keys. All of them.
I have chronic, cyclical, incurable insomnia. (Or rather, it's potentially curable -- but go ahead and look up the cost for medical sleep studies.) I woke up far too early -- 3 a.m. -- went for a long walk in the dark and at some point during the hike, had the key ring fall out of my jacket pocket. I didn't discover this until I was a few blocks from home and fishing for the key to my apartment. That was after six a.m, because long walk. Tired, sore, and locked out.
Which then meant I had to... immediately walk the whole thing all over again, hoping to see where the keys had fallen. Repeat all miles.
Once that failed miserably, I was still locked out of my apartment, only now with more exhaustion and double the aches. And for those waiting for me to go consult the superintendent or Tenant Services, please let me know where I can get either of those. My only choice was to break into my own residence. This required finding a neighbor who was awake, borrowing the right equipment, and then -- well, I'm not Fleur. I can't do it in less than ten seconds. Takes about seven minutes. And then I had to find all of my spares, discovered that I couldn't locate one for the bedroom lock, had to order a new lock and oops, the FIMFic dropbox key is gone and that'll have to be paid for... so time to go right back out and take the long, long hike to the post office...
In terms of financial penalties for the misadventure, the total isn't horrible: about $28. (I had a challenge at the post office, because the computer wasn't showing my name on the screen. They had to dig out the original rental paperwork before they would let me purchase a replacement key.) And I'll have to spend a few hours putting a new lock on the bedroom door tomorrow. The real price is aching legs, loss of sleep, and a general sensation of having been run over several times by a persistent bulldozer. Plus stress. I don't have to worry very much about someone finding my keys and using them to get in: there's nothing on the ring which can ID me or the address. But it's still not a happy sensation to lose the entire set.
In the present, I'm not having a good time. Others are far worse off, but... my own problems still count, if only a little.
In the past, it's just about time for a surprise assault by cold vapor.
September 25th
I think my body's excuse for being up this early is that it knows we've escaped Taormina and just wants to have another decent shower.
There's no bathtub here. (I'm not going to have another bathtub for the rest of the trip, and the shower on the ferry train lurks ahead.) But I can turn around in the shower stall and raise my arms. Who knew that represented luxury accommodations?
Today's plan is starting out far too early. This is a bed & breakfast place, and it's not quite time for the second half. I've been given two business cards for the same cafe, and each supposedly entitles me to one meal. That's how breakfast service is managed around here. Once I eat...
Trapani is a double city or rather, it's a pair of cities which exist on two levels of altitude. Trapani itself is the port town on the northwest corner of the island: a port of contention for those trying to invade the island, frequent wartime target, and closest observation point for some of the micro-islands which lie just offshore. Erice is on the quasi-flattopped mountain directly behind it: 2,464 feet up.
Erice is one of the oldest continually-settled places in Sicily. It wasn't touched by the bombs which hit during WWII, because a deliberate attempt was made to avoid it. The city is on the world's list of historical sites, because people have been living there for a couple of thousand years and... just about nothing has changed.
Erice is time travel on a budget. All it costs to go back in time is a cable car fare.
Some of you have already seen it.
Right. The cover art for The Fog In The Mind's Eye? A little piece of Erice, with the picture taken at night.
It's also one of the most important cities in modern science.
Centuries flow backwards in Erice. Progress moves forward. Nobel Prize honorees walk those streets every year. And I've never been.
This is the first time I've broken out the Lonely Planet guide which was on my Amazon wishlist at the day of its foundation. I didn't really need it before this. I need to know what time the cable car opens -- okay, that's many, many hours away. And the other issue is when it comes back down for the last time. People still live in Erice: the inner ring can't be changed too much, by law -- but it's got electricity, running water, wifi here and there, and very little in the way of road access. It's essential that I clear the city in time to reach sea level again without issue.
I wash up, pick out an outfit for the day. In leaving the east coast of the island, I've broken away from the heat wave. It's going to be in the 70s today. At least I won't be sweating though multiple outfits for a while.
(I should have checked the elevation forecast.)
Wait for sunrise. Go out, find the associated cafe, which is -- open, and not open. The door is unlocked, but the two-person staff is busy stocking the cases. There's very little available, and it's going to take a while before everything is out.
Okay. I don't mind that much, actually. The weather is cool enough to let me move around with some comfort, and I've never been to Trapani before. The streets are bright and nearly-empty at this hour. Everything's quiet. I'll just take some time on foot and explore. How bad could that be?
That thought came at about seven a.m.
By nine, I'm wondering about moving here.
It feels like I've discovered nature's perfect walking city.
The sidewalks here are wider than the Sicilian default of Back To The Exterior Wall And Pray. It's possible to move around on foot without going into the road every few minutes, and the urgency of avoiding that fate is made a little more blatant in the central shopping streets because I just found my first zero-service gas station. There are pumps and a card reader next to the curb. Anything which goes wrong from there is your problem.
But when you get away from that section...
Streets meander, bend away from each other at strange angles and take the occasional wild turn. Go too far in just about any direction and you'll reach water. The coast or rather, the coasts: this is on the island's upper left corner. There's a high seawall, and an observation post which is meant to watch for invading ships. That last has been there for a very long time, and the walls still feature the original bullet damage.
Every time you turn a corner, it's something new. Residential areas fade in, abruptly vanish. Little shops appear almost at random. Tiny cars are parked here and there.
And then I find half a memory.
When my family was in Nicolosi... well, Catania's not that far away. The fishermen went out every day, came back in. And someone would load up a carefully-balanced tray on the back of a motorcycle, pack it with ice, and then go up the volcano. Ride down the streets, set off the horn. Fish doesn't get much fresher. And here we have door-to-door fresh fruit.
I'm trying very hard not to fall in love. It's an effort.
I do figure out what's going on. This is the opposite of Taormina, with its constant psychic scream of SICILY! This is low-key. The natural part of the island, which has no need to reinforce an identity for tourists. It's Sicily on the sly. Come in, walk around, stay a while...
The seawall phases back in, and I make my way along the north coast for a while. A staircase is spotted, and I make my way down to the rocky shore...
...rocks.
I picked up one in Taormina. (There's one more ahead, and it may not be a rock at all.) Here...
...my mother is buried in a multifaith cemetery. There's a number of Judaic headstones, along with visitors to the graves for those of other faiths. And if you visit that kind of cemetery... you'll notice that some of the tombstones have rocks placed on top of the grave markers. Each left by a visitor, to show they were there. They remember. It's a nice little tradition, and I have a lot of respect for it. And any stone placed this way stays. Period.
I have a thought.
The area is searched.
It's March 15th of 2024. I've spent most of the day on trains and buses. Uber: that isn't exactly fun. But it's the only way. My mother's grave is in another state, because I wanted her to be near her favorite sibling. And once I lost my car... I lost all ability to readily visit. The closest I can get by mass transit is twelve miles, and once you factor in the roundtrip ride service to reach the gravesite...
I haven't been to the cemetery in over a year. It costs nearly $170 just to make the attempt, and takes a full day of travel just to spend an hour babbling at a hunk of rock.
But the guilt has been building up for a long time. And back in January, I set a Ko-Fi goal: get up there already.
One person covered it. Just one.
...I don't deserve this fandom. Or much of anything else...
I'm in the cemetery now. A slightly damp day: chill, but warming up to the mid-50s. I got dropped off in a supermarket parking lot by the bus, because FlixBus is in the states and taking some of Greyhound's routes. They don't use the actual transit centers. Departure was from an empty lot behind Madison Square Garden. But I've made it to the cemetery, the ground isn't muddy, no snow-hidden graves can take me out via slipping because the path is clear...
...her marker.
I babble a lot. Apologize for how long it's been, and then I have to tell her about the car and why it'll be so hard for me to get up here now. Try to sum up a year. But then I get to tell her that I... went home. I fill her in on what Nicolosi is like now, everything that's happened to Catania, I take some time to complain about showers, and I pause, visit the other graves in this section, say hello to lost relatives, come back to her and go back to babbling and weeping all over again.
Shortly before I go, I tell her that I've brought something.
A black, smooth beach stone from Trapani is placed on top of her marker. And there it will stay.
I couldn't take her home. I could only bring it to her...
Back to walkway level. This isn't quite a boardwalk: longer, more smooth. Spectacular cloud formations are passing by over the sea.
Every corner leads into a new surprise. I find a school, and as educational season has opened, I find high school students. Most of them are about two blocks away from the entrance, and the older ones desperately try to finish their cigarettes before going in. You don't vape around here. You get your cancer the old-fashioned way.
Find a place to sit. (This has been a challenge for most of the trip.)
This is a quasi-tourist area. I've found the docks, and there are ships going out every day. Most of them are one-day tours of the micro-islands and if I had an extra day here, I might have considered it. As-is, I'm focused on Erice and get to dodge a lot of people trying to hawk tickets in my specific direction. And sunhat carts. There's multiple sunhat carts. And the buildings are stately, the view is beautiful, and I've just found The Museum Of Salt.
I check in on the server and show off that last. (Given the date, it's agreed that the pile was surgically extracted from Broncos fans.) But... I've been in a salt mine. This day is for Erice.
But right now, it's Trapani. With the quiet homes and the ocean right there, all of the little shops and the ability to buy produce off the back of a visiting micro-truck, I already found a sweet little park and...
I could live here.
It's a stray thought, and a stupid one. I can't afford to move internationally. I would need to ring a very loud emergency bell for myself to do anything more than change units within my building. And politically... Sicily is not Italy, especially for the social aspects. But it's still subject to those laws, and Italy is not-so-slowly becoming an increasingly risky place to reside.
But it's just... pleasant. It feels like things fit. As if there's a puzzle with a few absent pieces and I just need to slide myself in close to an edge.
I'm being silly. I know it.
Maybe the bench is just that comfortable.
Birds go by. Ships head out to the micro-islands. People laugh. I spot multiple buses passing, and think about tomorrow's jump to Agrigento.
Still...
I could live here.
Uh-huh. Tell me what, me. If the civil suit somehow settles out or awards to seven digits, we'll talk. Until then... time for breakfast. I already got some fresh produce, because how do you not? But I've got this card...
I make my way back. Over an hour out, over an hour back in. And every step is a fresh adventure.
The card entitles me to, and I quote, 'one thing to eat, one thing to drink'.
...should have gotten more fruit.
Honey croissant. That'll help. And for the drink...
...I'm in Sicily.
I don't drink coffee. I have never touched espresso.
I am here, when others cannot be.
I put on my mother's ring.
I sit down at one of the little booths. Toast the empty seat on the other side. Wait for the tears to stop.
...oh, this is gonna suck...
...it doesn't. Most of what I get is the chocolate and foam. The coffee itself is moderated, and starting from a Sicilian base. Gustatory misery is shockingly low.
Back out there.
Walking, walking, and more walking, on the first day which is truly weather-rigged to permit it.
There's a supermarket. Their advertising may need some work.
They do know how to lay out the good stuff, though.
I find another produce place and stock up. Miniature tomatoes, tiny plums which fuse together into the shape of hearts. This cost me several thousand dollars to reach and a few Euro to pay for directly. 'tis good.
There's a bookstore, and I eventually pass a couple of toy shops. The local health of MLP is examined through counting minimal toy stock. G5 is represented by a puzzle. G4...
...it has to wait until I come back down from Erice. But I do stop at the larger shop on the way back, and Cranky joins the party.
There's a military base in the middle of the city, walled off and inaccessible. It almost fits in.
A van with mounted speakers on the roof passes me a few times. The circus is in town, trying to drum up some business. I wind up passing the tent on the next day's bus.
Eventually, I locate the cable car base and in doing so, discover that Lonely Planet is already out of date. I need to wait longer than anticipated. And in addition to this, some of the attractions at the top charge admission for every one you go into -- or you can get the discounted Erice Pass right here.
...mutter...
...pay up. More walking, and then I climb the stairs to the top of the waiting area for a future line. I'll be the first person through when the gate opens.
Sit down, go to work on the tomatoes --
"-- hey! Do you know what time they open?"
...English. American accent. To be really specific about it, New Yorker.
No matter where you go, the world follows.
I give him the departure time, and he's startled to hear familiar tones. The man comes up the steps. Mid-40s or older, hauling a suitcase, wearing shorts which are on the verge of becoming ill-advised. I think he's seeing me as a cultural oasis. He wants to talk now, and -- I don't think he's trying to pick me up. There are certain political feelers in a few sentences, trying to figure out whether I'm the sort of person he'd ever want to associate with away from here -- but right now, I represent home.
He tells me that he's been to Italy a few times, but it's his first time on the island. Having a fantastic time, just wishes he'd booked for longer. He's actually staying in Erice: there's hotels up there -- but he didn't know about the cable car. I fill him in on local taxi costs, advise him to wait a bit longer.
I'm asked about why I'm here. I give him the cut-rate version: former Navy brat, coming home for a little while. He does not gasp 'Estee?' (I had a plan if he did, and it starts with denial. Lots of it.) There's a little chat about NYC and where each of us is going next. He's shocked to learn about the train ferry out of Messina and vows to try it at some point.
People are starting to arrive. The line forms behind us, and the gate opens on time. I get into the first swaying cable car in the line and ride up with my fellow American.
...and up, and up...
2,464 feet. I had cause to check in later. We're moving over the walking path, which is an exaggerated switchback trail: no shaky fences this time, but the path goes back and forth across the entire face of the climb. I've got to make sure I'm out on time, because it's going to effectively triple the distance if I try to walk back.
The car sways. The seal on the doors isn't airtight near the bottom or top, and some wind blows in. It's getting colder. We're moving into sweater weather, and my one emergency windbreaker is in the B&B room.
...at the top. I say goodbye, head off in my own direction while he goes to find the hotel. I'll intercept him one more time in the city, and that's it.
Go through the gate...
This is what I posted on the chat server.
I can feel centuries pressing on my back.
Go ahead. Tell me what century it is.
I'll wait.
The central street... postcards, places to eat, tourist stuff. Go off the path, and... you slip through time. Where am I? When am I? It's like the ship in Baltimore's harbor, only persistent and everywhere. The ghosts gather, and some of them are following me. No intrusion, no attempts to push: just this constant awareness of time. I exist as something less than an eyeblink in the history of a very strong defensive position. So strong, in fact, that there's a local museum dedicated to all of the attempts to fend invaders off.
This is also when I find out just how worn down my shoes are.
...right. I've got just about no treads left, and this is what I'm moving across. Where most of the streets slant, climb, descend...
This is central Erice: the protected portion. There's a small ring of more modern homes on the outside, but -- I'm in the heart. I've got a small map, and it's time to move. If I can move when someone dropped most of modern history into the center of my spine.
...try.
Abandoned monastery. Churches. Make your way around to the castle. The science center, and here are pictures of the geniuses who've passed through. The original copy of the Erice Accords and if you know what that is, yes, I was honored just to be in there. Little museums, a bell tower to climb...
Incidentally, I paid for this.
(All admission pass prices go to church restoration.)
I breathe in history. Touch ancient walls, as the temperature continues to drop. Slip down an alleyway and slide across time. After a while, I find another one of the churches, on the edge of the tabletop surface. It's got a huge backyard of sorts, and that gives me a view to the east. I decide to share it. But the wind is picking up...
...gotta be very, very careful.
Scariest shot of the trip. One bad gust...
I keep moving. Trying to reach all of the pay sites. The clouds are coming in, there's moisture in the air, and I'm very aware that I have a deadline. The attractions will close at some point -- about an hour now: I've been up here for a while -- and I'll need to catch the cable car down --
-- the weather reaches Erice.
We're 2400 feet up.
The mountain isn't all that high. The cloud is very low.
I am now standing inside a storm.
I wish that was a joke. But this is just the time when I get to experience the results personally. The other day, I saw a cloud ram into Etna and get the worst of it. This one is skimming through Erice. There's fog in the air, the humidity goes to 100% in seconds, the temperature plummets into the 40s when no one is dressed for it, and then the water comes in.
The streets are getting wet.
...I have no treads and the streets are wet.
I nearly wipe out a half-dozen times. It doesn't take long before I start moving with one hand on a wall at all times, and every step still risks sending me crashing down. The attractions start to close, and I try to reach the cable car without breaking anything. The wind is picking up, trying to knock me away from the wall, my right foot goes out from under me and I just barely stabilize in time, tourists and locals are scurrying, I just need to get a little further...
...gawds, being a tourist in Cloudsdale must suck...
...here's the station. I have a roundtrip ticket, so I can get on immediately. This car is letting me ride solo --
-- the wind is still picking up and I am riding in a cable car with imperfect air sealing around the doors.
Guess What Happens Next.
2,464 feet of dangerous swaying later...
Oh hai, Cranky. Yes, I'll pay cash.
It takes a little while after I get off the cable car, but the rain does reach the Trapani level and the wind is close behind. The sun is going down, and I could really use some dinner. I saw a few places during the walk...
...closed.
Closed.
Open, but full. I'm told that I'll have to wait until a table opens up. A quick menu examination tells me that I can eat here, and I have to --
-- wait outside. With the wind whipping up, sitting at an outdoor table with an umbrella over it. Night has fallen and the wind is trying to make umbrella and table take off: gusts are going over 40 mph. I'm cold and wet and tired, but dinner is coming --
-- no. No, it is not. Because diners, having finished their meal, just left. And no one calls me in to take the table.
...well, they're cleaning it. Gotta wait.
More people come out. No one from the staff emerges to bring me in.
...the captain has now turned on the @$#% This button...
I get up. Walk to the entrance, silently show them the money I got from the ATM earlier, and then leave.
I am in the heart of European food culture and I feel like I've spent half this trip being completely unable to eat.
There's two more restaurants nearby. One is closed and the other, after inspection of their menu, stands a decent chance to put me in the hospital. A third, located as I'm staggering back towards the B&B, has menu prices which are going to require a separate Ko-Fi drive. I still feel like I could live in this city, but it's gonna take some experience before I could try to eat out here.
Back to the room. I have a few last plums and some potato chips. That's dinner. And I have another bus ride in the morning. Trapani will soon be behind me. Agrigento lies ahead.
Nicolosi was home. Agrigento is the core. The lasting image. Something I've carried with me since I was six.
I'm going to see an old friend.
Atlas awaits.
From the photo non-album:
View from the cable car coming down. This gives you the shape of Trapani.
The storm as seen from below.
Okay, who told them I was coming?
Very Important Document.
Like you don't have a few lying around.
All along the watchtower...
Even I couldn't screw up that shot.
The server went slightly nuts when I posted this one. We've got a few weapons devotees. Some of them may be planning to make trips.
Give me that old-time religion...
Looking to the side from where I got the earlier shot. You can see portions of the castles.
Dizzy yet?
Crossroads of the science world.
So many years in one place.
I got a rock.
And now it's hers.
Again, if you want to see me fail to eat in Tokyo, the Ponicon Ko-Fi Drive is on.
...surely there's got to be one place in that city which will serve me dinner, right?
...
...right?
...
...vending machines?
Department of
Could Be Worse
Andre "The Giant" Roussimoff. Pro wrestler back in the 1970s-1980s. 7'4" tall. Started out about 420 pounds, billed at 520 pounds most of his career. Was the giant in the movie The Princess Bride. Had acromegaly & basically just started growing one day.
Dropped out of school age 14. Drafted into French army age 18. Let go in about a week for the same reason he dropped out. The toilet facilities were hopelessly inadequate for someone his size.
Wrestled about 300 days a year & thus had to stay in motel rooms. Most motel toidies are not designed for someone that size.
I'm sure I've brought this up before but not sure if you've ever acknowledged it or given it a try but for insomnia see if you can swap to a full on night schedule and sleep during the day instead of trying to force yourself to sleep at night. You may just be nocturnal and are fighting your body's natural inclination to want to stay awake when Moon is out and sleep under Sun instead.
One of the steps to living a better life is recognizing that you have worth. Some level of self-deprecation is healthy, it keeps away the hubris, but it's far too easy to go too far into things and forget to take care of yourself.
I've sort of had this open question about your gender presentation for a while now and it's skewed towards "female" but this really hits it over in that direction more.
I don't think you've been trying to make it a question but I've just never seen you outright say any sort of label so I've been left wondering but never really wanting to ask... .
There's a story idea in that line, but how to go with it? Visitors already need some sort of cloud walking spell to be a tourist so that's a given, maybe the trouble of getting a reliable one? But past that? Maybe some sort of "wandering cloud" protection? Rain coats? Needs a bit of workshopping, this idea. That's the non flyers, but even the winged ones would have some trouble with roving storms especially if the local Weather Control is dragging their tails.
So popular they made an anime about one! Or a guy who becomes one in another world after dying by being crushed by a vending machine in our world. It's actually a pretty decent anime all things considered.
Jokes aside you really need to do better meal planning, take better care of yourself and not allow yourself to go hungry so often. You've got GPS and it trying to kill you aside it should have restaurants on it and you can make some sort of plan on where to stop at and when along your walking path. Have a couple of options based on some flex time. Prepare for the worst and all that but make a plan of some kind and not just "What ever I find." as that has NOT been working out for you.
5774510
oh wow.
let me introduce you to the concept of 'gay while traveling'. a businessman hitting on a single person at a tourist spot means... nothing.
(ETA: Have lived in travel destinations my entire life.)
and if someone is making an effort to not say, it's courtesy to not ask, eh?