May 31, 2022

The three days flew by in Milan and we bid farewell at the Bergamo airport. Seeing the contours of the city from far, making a mental note to return one of these days. As usual, I still had no or little idea as to where I was going (let alone how to get “there”, wherever the place may be). This was when I started coming up with the plan of riding to, or rather, in Sicily. I thought about it for a while, the area around Milan is rather boring in a southernly direction, with the Po-basin, I had ridden through that a couple of times (the last time en-route to Corsica), was not all too excited about it. The ferry ride to Corsica in 2019, was out of Genoa, was fun and I started looking for ferries to Sicily – it was around 4 pm and there would be a ferry leaving that very evening, around 10 pm, from the same port in Genoa. I jumped on an express train, one I was not supposed to be travelling on, anyhow, for a few extra euros the problem was solved – legally – with the Italian ticket collector.

In Genova, I rushed to the ferry terminal, the memories of the Corsica trip were filling my memory, it is interesting how something that you think has been erased permanently comes back so vividly. As it was the day of the departure, on-line ticketing was already closed, but after listening to quite some screaming between a passenger and the ticket office, it was my turn and for €70, I was destined for departure in like two hours, bound for Palermo in Sicily.

I explored the city, something I did not do on my previous visit, our ancestors used up every inch of space between the seafront and the hills. Wonderful palais were bult on the top of each other, with beautiful entrances, but one could hardly marvel at these, as the streets were so narrow.

Near the port, I rode in a touristy quarter, which abruptly ended and what followed were alleys full of people of color, mostly out of Africa, discussing the events of the night loudly. At this late hour, they were assembling around small grocery shops, which were the only ones open.

Now equipped for the 20-hour boat journey, I knew where my place would be – if you know about my Corsica trip, I did not buy a cabin, but opted for a tent space on the back deck. My strategy was to wait for people to scatter away, at first, many are there, stating at the disappearing lights of the coast and as soon as the breeze picks up, there would be hardly anyone left – the perfect time to pitch my tent. I slept quite well, it was just the loud bang of the hinged metallic door that was malfunctioning that woke me up occasionally. This is how May of 2022 ended.