Cefalu, 19 July 2015

Next time, as cute as local as convenient as they are, remind me not to rent an apartment in Sicily in a narrow alley where the good old Italian neighbors are 2 feet apart and loves a good sometimes passionate (agitated) group chit chat talking across their balconies early in the morning, where the sound of a little stroll or roller luggage dragging down the street is amplified as if via a loud speaker right into within the walls of the apartment, where the proud-to-be-loud Italian gas scooters va-vroom their F1 arrival across the street, where the old-fashion fisherman/fishmonger with the strongest lungs broadcasts his catch of the day the whole town could hear him, and where you could hear baby crying, people talking, shower water running, washing machine working, tv showing and telephone ringing.