Stories

According to the most entertaining legend, Palermo’s pink-and-black kit was born from a laundry mishap: red turned pink, and blue turned black. The more documented version explains the colours differently: pink represents the sweetness of victory, while black stands for the bitterness of disappointment.

The Theatines had an unusual rule: they were forbidden to own land, earn an income or even beg for alms. They lived entirely on what people chose to give them. If there was no food one day, the monks simply fasted and waited — they called it complete trust in Divine Providence. Saint Cajetan, one of the founders of the order, was particularly strict about following this rule. He later became the patron saint of people looking for work and those facing financial difficulties.

Via Calderai was once so noisy that a 19th-century English traveller called it “the noisiest place in Europe” — the sound of hammering metal filled the street all day long. It’s much quieter now, but the craft is still alive.

Sicilian Averna is known all over the world, while Amara is still much less familiar. Today, it’s my number one amaro. It’s made at the foot of Mount Etna from the peel of Sicily’s famous blood oranges, local spring water and wild herbs.

This tiny rosticceria has been around for about 200 years, and all this time it has been tucked away in the courtyard of Palazzo De Stefano. They’ve kept the old tradition of making every snack small — perfect for me, because I can try a little bit of everything from Palermo’s street-food classics.

In Piazza Politeama, there’s a small bronze sculpture called “The Homeless”, showing two boys. According to the legend, on a cold winter day they managed to collect a little money — enough either for two worn-out jackets or for a very modest dinner. Unable to choose between warmth and food, they split the money: one ate, the other bought a jacket. The first died from the cold that same night, while the second stayed warm and survived — giving him another chance to find food.

For me, Casa Professa is the perfect way to explain the Sicilian word tascia: bright, excessive and a little showy. You walk inside and are overwhelmed by the sheer amount of Baroque. It’s the most “Baroque Baroque” I’ve ever seen in my life.

Sicilian ceramics are quite easy to tell apart from mass-produced Chinese ones — they’re never absolutely perfect. The paint is applied by hand directly onto the white glaze, with no room for mistakes, so no two brushstrokes are exactly alike. And hand-painted pieces are usually signed on the back with the artist’s name, the region, or at least the words “dipinto a mano.”