Mediterranean sunshine, good food and meeting great people.
Amazing seafood, arancini, peaches and cheap beer. Even cheaper coffee. 40 cent espressos.
Dinner with two professors and a sociologist; Walking across Italian highways to get to a beach party, staying up all night and eating pastries while watching the sunrise. Watching Tom have raw oysters at 7 am.
There is an heavily tattooed, lovely Italian man called Paolo who is our Italian Fairy Godfather (shout out to Matt from Cali, love you dude).
Became an Isabella Blow for the next up and coming Alexander McQueen of Knitwear. He's 6'4, a Northern teddybear with black false nails. Buying him lunch was my investment in the arts.
Was watched over by 3 men as we partied at the local hotspot in Palermo (it's a fish market by day and the area was never regenerated after being bombed in WW2). It was a brilliant night. Josh said he faced 'boyfriend envy'- I was very flattered to hear that.
Was scared at the Catacombs in Palermo- it felt as if the dead was watching me. The vibe there was weird.
Challenged by another northern man to try and fit my fist in my mouth. I cant, but there was a discussion about how big my mouth was and he drunkardly asked me if I loved my boy.
Had to rescue a little English rose from the Sicilian John Malcovich (serious doppleganger moment).
Got baked in Cefalu- Le Bronzissima!!! Sun stroked
Patischerria Cappello: Settevelli is the name of the best cake ever. I had it once before in Malaysia (made by a family friend) and though I would never taste anything like it again. Until Settevelli (the seven veils). It was worth getting lost, chafing my thighs and the blisters on my feet. I made a pilgrimage for that cake.
For the first time ever- I was early for a flight back to London