{k uh - t AI n - y uh}. Umbrella Girls, golden arches of McDonald's and a headless statue make up the welcoming committee. Flamboyant Italian Techno
echoes off the surrounding buildings. Roving street vendors proffer a wide
arrange of trinkets to entice the euro out of my pockets; whizzes and gadgets
galore. Surprisingly their English is
perfect. I decide to keep my eyes fixed straight ahead, to look longer than
five seconds means yes even if you mean no; it’s a risky business.
Across the street a group of
women from the hot pants brigade march in time. PDA is not discouraged here. Lips that
dutifully kiss ‘Nonie’ on the cheek, were passionately exchanging saliva with
their lover in the center of Elephant Square not an hour before. Production of
Italians seems to be the main export here. The smell of fried food and humanity
fill the air.
From the doors of a Cathedral an
elderly priest recites mass reverently in Sicilian. I can’t understand what he
is saying. I think it is something like “For those about to rock, we salute
you!” But I can’t be sure, my Sicilian is rusty.
Criss crossing streets, narrowly avoiding being a victim of shady Italian driving. A typical Sunday night in
Catania.
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