Cows time * biorhythms have unpacked and I can no longer know when I have time and when not. Should I spend most of my time trying to figure out if I have time, but this would be a really too stupid to waste time (and I love to spend time in an intelligent way, whatever that means). I think it's better to ignore it, for one evening.
Where were we? If anyone knows a way to fool pick up the thread of a discourse of where were we? let me know. What does this with what I say and, more importantly, what I mean? I do not know, and I do not care.
Where were we? Ah, yes, to Linosa with flip-flops. I had promised myself to write something about the wind storm, the broken refrigerator, the rat in the kitchen of Mrs. Philomena satanic laughter, the cubicle of Lampedusa, the taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles, Venus on the half shell, etc.. etc. and I will. I love to go in order, but they are damn inconsistent, so do not follow any order and tell you everything randomly, shake each other's events. (The truth is that they are so inconsistent as not being able to be consistent in my inconsistency, then, paradoxically, I usually end up being relatively consistent. That's why still follow a certain order.)
The taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles: The plane is the best means of getting from point A to point B, if the goal and not interested in the trip itself (yes, I know, the real goal is the journey and bla bla bla). By now, if you choose to fly with any airline other than Alitalia to be paid very little. The plane is fast, quiet, painless. And then it is safe, much safer than buses, trains, ships, cars and teleportation ( Raymond Babbitt is not the same opinion, but never mind). The best way to achieve Linosa, regardless of the town, is to take the trip to Lampedusa Lampedusa Linosa and then by boat in two hours or so. However, I've always known this. Before giving my first cry so, while still revel in the amniotic fluid, I already knew. Sometimes, however, know something is good for nothing (I know that Berlusconi is an idiot, but he continued undaunted to be president of the board). A month before our departure flights of Meridiana and Palermo-Catania Lampedusa Lampedusa were already fully booked (if you decide to travel by plane, remember that you must book your flight before you even decide to travel by plane), so me and Giusi we were forced to opt for the TSA, the awesome alternative solution, namely: 1) Catania-Agrigento by bus (3 hours = 10 €) - 2) Agrigento-Porto Empedocles by bus (15 minutes, 1 or 2 ergo € at most, assumed ) - 3) Porto Empedocle-Linosa by boat (6 hours = 26 €).
BIIIP! Serious mistake to step 2. We did not put in the income of the taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles, a terrible criminal organization so as to fade branched and sprawling mafia, ' Ndrangheta, Camorra , yakuza and Chinese triads combined. Paradoxically, what allows this perfect organization to stand and prosper is the belief that deep-rooted and widespread disorganization here in Sicily is the norm. In Sicily it does not work next to nothing, and if something works, it works poorly or briefly. The fact that anarchy, neglect, indifference, and cronyism reign everywhere mafia would not cause surprise or in tourists who come from afar or in native gattopardescamente now resigned to this state of affairs. A single ship connects Porto Empedocle the Pelagie. The ship departs from Porto Empedocles at midnight, arriving at Linosa at six-thirty in the morning, again after ten minutes to eight and a half stops to Lampedusa. At 10 starts the opposite direction, stops at noon Linosa and arrives in Porto Empedocle at about 18:30. So every day and every night. No coach and no direct train Porto Empedocles the rest of the world. Who wants to go to Porto Empedocles must still stop at Agrigento, and who wants to get away from Porto Empedocles from Agrigento is by force.
Now, knowing the absurdity of the situation, it is my assumption has been that there was at least an efficient public service can ensure, especially in the summer, a constant and continuous connection between the city of Pirandello and that of Camilleri (now also called Vigata , as if this was enough to attract some tourists). The undersigned forget that Sicily should never take anything for granted. Giuseppe and I have taken the coach of 18.00 and, after a fantastic journey across half of Sicily (the air conditioning was not working and there were 38 degrees in the shade, the sun 40 and 50 inside the bus, behind us sat a nice lady, covered with a layer of scent often twenty centimeters, and the driver, obviously a bit 'tipsy, was driving in a zig-zag and change the radio station every 20 seconds) we arrived in Agrigento at 21, healthy, safe and ready to load our luggage on the first bus to Porto Empedocle. There, in the deserted square where the bus had downloaded it while my eyes wandered lost in the dust and silence in search of a phantom bus, I heard a strange hiss, as the seconds passed, became more acute and disturbing, almost deafening. For a few moments my mind was clouded and I almost go crazy: the hissing grew in intensity, seemed to come from the mouths of hell, it was excruciating and frightening. I was saved thanks to Giuseppe, who with a slap managed to get me back to reality. And then I understood. I understood everything.
was not a hiss, but a grin. The mocking laugh of a fucking taxi mafia (or Mafia driver): 130 kg, uncertain age, shirt open to show the superb generously delights of her breasts hairy, fake solid gold necklace and cigarette. A hideous demon that seemed to have been born from the imagination of Hieronymus Bosch or Kentaro Miura was there before me. It was real. And grinned. It 's been a while, but I felt that the time had stopped, I believed to have been condemned for eternity to contemplate quell'immonda creature. Until it, the Creature, he opened his mouth, showing a string of teeth from the undefined color, from yellow and green, like twisted stalactites. I thought that would gobble up, and instead spoke: carusi, please click the autobuss? viriti about the uttimu autobuss pì Pottu Empeducle was all'ottu and dementia ... (trans. guys, try the bus? See that the last bus to Porto Empedocle started at eight and a half ...) , he stopped to breathe, or rather to suck the air as a turbine with those blacks who had huge holes instead of his nostrils, he waited in the cold penetrated our bones and resumed: ... but vuliti, the more we will potto iu twenty euros. (translation but if you want, for twenty euro I'll take you there.) A spark in his eyes inhumane, and that grin again Mephistopheles. Desperate, distraught, annihilated, we have sold. Twenty euro. Ten kilometers. A quarter of an hour's drive. Meter off. I would rather go on foot or by hitchhiking, but we had too much luggage. There was no alternative.
course, once back, we found ourselves in the same situation. We were prepared, however, and we managed to save us from the clutches of another vulture of taxi mafia-calling to our aid with a fearless hero Tunisian blue van. But that's another story, the cows are tired and time * have become anorexic.
* What the hell is a cow's time?
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