Palermo, where lunch is a contact sport

Palermo is loud. It is the loudest city I have ever been in, and I lived in a flat above a Bristol kebab shop for four years. The markets shout, the scooters shout, the church bells shout, and the men selling lemons from the backs of three-wheeled vans have loudspeakers on the roof, so that they can shout while driving.

What we ate, in order

1. Arancine, at 10 in the morning, because that's when they come out of the fryer. (In Palermo they're arancine, feminine, and you will be corrected.)
2. Pane con la milza, a spleen sandwich, which Teo ordered without asking what it was, and finished without saying anything.
3. Pasta con le sarde: sardines, wild fennel, raisins and pine nuts. It shouldn't work. It is the best thing we ate.
4. Cannoli, filled in front of you, because a cannolo filled before you came in is a soggy lie.
5. Granita and brioche for breakfast, every day after the first, when we found out.

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Cefalù, for the day

An hour east by train there's a fishing town under a rock, with a Norman cathedral and a beach where the whole of Palermo goes on Sunday. We swam, ate a second lunch, and fell asleep on the train back with sand in places sand has no business being.

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