The great metropolis of Catania was Freddy’s last stop on his great Sicilian tour. His hosts were a couple who owned a bustling bakery below the Airbnb.

They were friendly and happily conversed with Freddy in Italian, even giving him a few treats for his room. The room was a bit of a patched up a fair, but what it lacked in drain traps to stop sewer gases from entering the room, it made up in charm.

Freddy set out exploring that night to find a bit of nightlife. The city was gritty, dirty, teeming, a far cry from any place he’d yet seen in Sicily, even Palermo. He walked through Indian neighborhoods with their small shops full of sundry goods and African neighborhoods, with ebony-skinned immigrants walking about in traditional garb.

After a turn or two he had left the lights completely behind – there were no streetlights, no houselights, a street of utter darkness. Polyglot residents flited from one door to another so smoothly they must have had the pavement stones memorized. Struggling between his need to see and not wanting to draw attention to himself, Freddy eventually turned on his flashlight phone, and attempted to feign confidence as he tried to aim towards a more main street.

He found one, eventually, still dimly lit but with pools of hazy light from the widely spaced streetlights. His research had told him that up ahead would be a few places to eat and drink. He eventually found a hamburger place with no indoor seating, and slopped down his burger on a stone ledge outside the eatery while young Italians on dates chatted nearby, sometimes lighting up a stick of foul tobacco. The burger place was highly rated, but the burger itself Freddy found mediocre; perhaps best that most Italian restaurants stuck to Italian food.

His stomach full of greasy meat, Freddy walked to a nearby winery. It was bright inside, warm and pleasant – a respite from the gloom outside. The hosts were cordial, and happily gave him glass after glass of wine as he tried to give tasting notes – First, a glass of grillo; then a red, minerally, but not too dry; a spumante, and so on.

After drinking his fill, Freddy stumbled back to his Airbnb, this time keeping to the brighter spots of the city on his route back.

The next day was day of shopping, and markets, and cheese. Finally Freddy tried Italian McDonald’s, including some cheese-filled pastries and chicken wings of acceptable quality.

Freddy arrived at the airport the next day without incident. Waiting for his plane, he saw a lady with a yipping “comfort dog” boarding the same plane as he. As the dog yipped during takeoff, he saw the best view yet of the great volcano Etna – something he had never found the time to tour. He flew away from the pleasures of the old world, with the new one audibly impinging on his consciousness.

His first full introduction, was, oddly enough, during a layover in the Istanbul airport. He waited in line for a (probably quite mediocre) while the obviously American young lady in front of him asked if the kebab could come without a wrap, since she didn’t eat gluten. He was sure she saw the look of disgust he shot her as he walked away to try to find somewhere more discerning in their choice of clientele.