Protected: Colapesce, Sicily’s Original Aquaman
I got home from the morning walk with Cali as my partner was coming back from his swim, his first time out with all of his new equipment…
Whenever I’m back in Sicily, every Sunday we go to my mother-in-law’s house for lunch. It’s a tradition. No matter what happened that week, Sunday means showing up…
I got home from the morning walk with Cali as my partner was coming back from his swim, his first time out with all of his new equipment…
Last week I told you about the Faraglioni and the legend of the Cyclops in Aci Trezza. But there’s so much more to say. Aci Trezza is a…
Waking up has never been my forte. I used to think the best start to the day was a large mug of coffee before the inevitable opening of…
Who writes this
I was born in London, to an Algerian father and a British mother, and lived the way London tells you to: always moving, never quite arriving. At eighteen I went to Algeria. At twenty-one, Jordan. At thirty-two I finally stopped, in Sicily, and found the thing I'd been chasing without a name.
Then the island surprised me: Arabic words hiding in the dialect, markets that felt like Amman, flavours I already knew. The more I looked, the more I found. This blog is what I found.
Read my story →The Sunday Letter
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