passeggiata

Some things are tricky to translate, others are impossible. A good mate of mine tried to relate to me an experience he had years ago in Italy. He said it was a passeggiata,  an afternoon walk. I have been to Italy many times but still didn't get this.
Things seem very traditional in Palermo. It's Sunday. Nothing is open and church bells are going off all over the place. Timmy is late to wake so I venture out on my own. It's early. Everything is Catholic-shut-tight. The day of rest is palpable.
So we did what any good Palermitan would do, relax at home then have a late lunch, some red wine and a siesta.
Post slumber and we venture out to a very different world. The main streets in the city are blocked off to cars. And people are about. The piazzas are full. I started to get it.
Some people dress up, but you don't have to. The shops are now open, but no one is out to shop. The streets are closed off, but there is no yanky-doodle type fanfare. This isn't about shopping, consuming or cheering. People talk to each other. Kids ride bikes. Older men link arms to support each other, teenage boys kiss each other on the cheek, not once but twice, because thats what they do here. The women are proud and relaxed.
There are no malls here. No fast food franchises and no muffin-topped teens on iphones.
Words are one thing. Cultural stuff is hard to translate. I reckon it would be like trying to explain to someone who has never been to a barbecue just exactly what it is. Its not just about cooking food over a fire. A passeggiata is not about getting somewhere, fast. It's simply about being. It's all very buddhist for a place full of Catholics.