Welcome to Taormina, population around 10,000.  Roughly 5 million call Sicily home, almost all of them are Italians.  The only minorities I’ve seen here are fellow tourists.  Mt. Etna and farms dominate the landscape, while cities adorn steep and uninviting cliffs not suitable for growing anything.   

Farming here has been a thing forever.  I suspect the mild climate makes it pretty easy — early humans wouldn’t need much technology to successfully grow a surplus of food.  In some parts of town, you take care to step over all the fallen oranges.  Like dodging dog poop, but better smelling.  There are lemon trees on our terrace, with massive lemons growing on them.  Hate to eat them, they’re so pretty.  The region is also known for pistachios, which we’ve been eating non-stop. 

Lately, Sicily has consciously shifted its economy towards tourism.  The move has proven successful for many, but overall Sicily still has a lower GDP and higher unemployment than Mainland Italy.  One site suggested The Mafia holds back Sicily’s further economic development.  They continue to be active in various areas; I find that surprising.       

People have inhabited this island, the largest in the Mediterranean Sea, for a long time.  When the Greeks showed up in 700 BC, many already called this place home.  Ever since, war and conquest have dominated Taormina and Sicily.  The Greeks, the Romans, the Muslims, the Normans, the Spanish, the French, the Mafia … you get the idea.  This place has been passed around by basically everyone — the communal joint of the Mediterranean — at history’s long, long frat party of lustful, wealthy men and the boys sent to fight for more.  Each group left their mark, most evident at the ancient theater.  You might look at certain buildings in town and say, “That belongs in Cairo.”  

Our apartment sits off the Corso Umberto, a pedestrian shopping district with cutesy clothing boutiques, gelaterias, restaurants, and tourist shops selling watery limoncello in funky-shaped bottles (still delicious, though.)  

We concluded last night with a town bonfire, located near our flat in Piazza Duomo.  How advanced are we humans, really, gathering around a massive fire on a sacred night?  I liked how non-denominational it was.  We expected speeches or blessings, but the firemen just lit the fire without fanfare.  Choose your own meaning.  For the Christians, it’s about the Son’s return.  For the Pagans, it was about the sun’s return, banishing the longest night with firelight.  For the kids, it was a massive fire and how freakin’ cool is that?  Regardless, we all shared an experience watching the 8’ flames, the entire plaza warmed with heat and kinship.  Even Mt. Etna joined in, booming and belching far off in the distance.  

Have a wonderful Christmas.