Pa wanted to visit Sicily. The parents of a boyhood friend had immigrated from there. He loved listening to their Italian, and eating the mounds of pasta his friend’s mother served, topped with sausage and sauce.
On the map, it’s a straight shot from Florence to Messina.
And on the train app it looked relatively easy as well, just a single transfer in Salerno. Rather than make a very long day of it, we decided to spend the night there.
A throw back to the 50’s, Salerno isn’t a major tourist stop. But had we not stopped,
we would not have walked its streets,
or its seaside esplanade,
or met Angela, proprietress of the Holiday Guesthouse,
who taught us all we needed to know about Italian mothers and their sons.
Had we not stopped, we would not have found the little place serving pane e prosciutto,
and had a sunny picnic lunch.
But had we stayed in Salerno, we would not have enjoyed the train ride south along the Amalfi coast, arriving in Messina by high speed ferry.
Ate in our first Sicilian restaurant,
and feasted on our first Sicilian pizza.
Had we stayed in Salerno, we would not have had a room with such a view.
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