Into the land of Marsala, Sicily

San Vito lo Capo, Sicily . . .My bisnonna (great grandmother) was from Palermo, "outside the city where the land was made of stone," my aunt told me.  She left me wondering, until I arrived and saw for myself.  Sicily.

The view from our room.  The heat not as oppressive at higher elevation.  Recently there had been many fires that had left the dry desert-like vegetation blackened and void.

The African influence was great and I listened only to the radio station taking pleasure in the very blatant mix of reggae, African music, and R&B -- sometimes all in one song.

The surrounding mountains seemed like large dinosaur fossils.

There were many Moroccon influenced restaurants.  Here we watched young French teenagers smoking hookahs, even younger Italian boys smoking hookahs and picking up young Italian girls, while Massi and I relaxed in our pillows and drank local Marsala discussing recent gossip about Marco de Bartoli wines and how much do we really like Marsala . . . how much do we really like Sicilian wine?  That was the first time we had ever sat down and both ordered a glass of Marsala together.

Zingaro National Park was by far our favorite spot in San Vito lo Capo.  Though the beaches were small, the sand large pebbles, and the surrounding hills scorched by recent fire -- this was the beauty of the whole area we were in.

Massi read La Repubblica every day.

Marsala was actually my favorite and was much more interesting that I had anticipated.  However, it doesn't take much to make me happy.  I just want a little bit of good shopping, a few historic buildings, a quaint local spot to have lunch, and a wine bar that actually has a good selection of local wine.

Again we ordered Marsala -- this one was our favorite:  Cantina Buffa.

 Beautiful ocean views day and night.