As the taxi pulled away from Scopello, our hearts sank a bit. We all knew it might be a while before we had a beautiful breakfast spread like that again!...*sigh*... The charming, itty bitty Italian town was just like the ones seen in romantic movies—no tourist shops, no crowds, only a few locals and travelers scattered about, going about their carefree day with a jaw-dropping backdrop. It's a place where at first, you wonder how you will pass the time, but quickly that concern diminishes when you are reading poolside, hiking the craggy bluffs and eating an authentic Italian dinner in the town square.
The same taxi driver, Francesco, who brought us to Scopello (I think he is the only driver in town!) drove us back to the empty train station. He still had the same CD playing as last time, but we didn't mind, for he had a great collection of American 1950s tunes.
Our three-hour ride to Cefalú (pronounced Shef-a-loo), a local's tourist beach town smack dab in the middle of the Northern coast of Sicily, went by quickly with so much beautiful coastline to see. We arrived with the sun shining and the streets buzzing with working locals and families on holiday. The train stations have all been within a mile walk of our Airbnbs, giving us a chance to stretch our legs, scan our new neighborhood and scout out markets and cheap eats for our future meals.
Like most of the others, our new Airbnb is down a picturesque narrow, cobblestone street with laundry strewn from balcony to balcony. The sight of our new kitchen brings me so much delight that it makes me question why we don't take more risks and have more fun with our interiors. I feel like I've entered Peewee's kitchen or a 1950s movie set.
The last two mornings, we have all been abruptly awoken by the sounds of the recycling cart clunking down the cobblestone road, but yay for recycling! It sounds like someone is dropping a truckload of endless glass bottles from the roof into a metal wheel barrel right outside of our window. Then the cart (it can't be a truck for one would not fit down this narrow road) bounces down the long cobblestone street with all the glass bottles clanking in the metal bin. Not being able to fall back to sleep because now the whole town is awake and in full motion, I get up and make my groggy way to the kitchen to make breakfast. The cheerfulness of this adorable room makes everything better again.
So far, every place we have stayed in Europe is built like a tank—it's quite impressive. We never feel like our safety is at risk, no matter what neighborhood we are in. Every front door mimics a bank vault door in its mass and weight. All of our apartments contain at least two doors and multiple locks before entering the abode. The only downfall to the heftiness of these prison-like doors is that you hear every door in the apartment building shut, times two—the main entrance door and the apartment door. CLUNK, CLUNK!! In every place, the ceilings are all at least nine feet tall and the walls are made of sound deadening cement. Every interior room has a solid door and lock (with skeleton key!), including many of the kitchen and living areas.
FUN FACT: Every place we've stayed at in Italy comes equipped with an emergency pull cord in the shower. When you pull it, a buzzer goes off in the main room to alert others. Also, every bathroom contains a bidet.
