14. Palermo: Culture, food, and ... the mafia

29 July 2026

Yesterday's lecture had been about Palermo with highlights from its long history from Greek colony to Roman republic to Arab rule to Norman Conquest to Kingdom of Sicily to unification with Italy. In other words, the history of the world is encapsulated inside this tiny island, and to be honest, for people like us in holidaymaker mode, it is not so easy to follow. Like all previous lectures to date, we are led into an exciting array of invasions and overthrows, of wars, culture, architecture, and the arts and Palermo appears to be more exciting than others.

We have chosen to take the Palermo Highlights Overview tour today, and after yesterday's lecture, I am excited. In my mind's eye, I expect to see ancient Arabic-style buildings covered in decorative arches and interiors of intricate gold mosaics. What is in my head and what we actually see are two different things.

As we leave the ship, we are hit by a blanket of heat, real oven-like heat. Since our arrival in Italy a couple of weeks ago, we have enjoyed the summer, but today the heat is hotter. Perhaps it is Palermo's location that makes it so oppressive.

We sit on the bus and are provided a brief history of the city, with landmarks pointed out as the bus passes. We are provided all sorts of information from Greek colonisation to the machinations of the Mafia...

... lots of anecdotal Mafia stories...

... too many Mafia stories. Is our guide trying to scare us silly?

Half-an-hour after the tour begins, the bus stops and we are directed off it and told to wander down a pedestrian street and to return in 45 minutes. I think I may have dozed off between Mafia stories because I have to consult my itinerary to find out that we are visiting Mondello Beach, a charming seaside resort and holiday destination. We walk along the breach promenade, viewing umbrellas, which are positioned about 1 metre apart in a grid pattern on the sand. Along one side are beach boxes, not at all salubrious or colourful like ours in Brighton Beach. I do wonder how enjoyable a beach day would be if we had to pay to sit on a beach under a yellow umbrella in a designated spot. I think that our disorderly method of visiting a beach is perhaps more to my liking. We turn back to return to the bus, choosing a shady street filled with grand beach houses built almost a century ago and wonder how much these would be worth today considering their location and size. They are surrounded by lush gardens filled with oleanders of all colours, hibiscus and other exotic plants. We plan our return meticulously, and it has nothing to do with being punctual but everything to do with sitting under a stream of cold air in the airconditioned bus. We have noticed that few Italian places are airconditioned and sometimes sitting on the street in a Mediterranean fashion is not always comfortable.

Back on the bus, we head into the city centre, famous buildings and other huge monuments are pointed out and described and I am quite happy about this arrangement, and would perhaps be happier if we did not have to leave the cold comfort of the bus ever again. When the bus passes a monument, the guide describes it and I try to take some sort of decent but fleeting photo through the dirty window of the bus. We are all happy, right...?

The bus stops.

We are directed to check our earphones.

The doors open.

Hot air rushes into every corner of the bus even before we step out onto the footpath. Standing under a tree makes no difference. Within seconds, the heat is pressing in, my clothes are sticking to my skin, then we are off, following the tour guide down the street, through a magnificent arch adorned with a crowned eagle, into a street with traffic restricted to only expiring horses and an electric train that may or may not simultaneously combust if it is switched on. I actually want to get onto the train, but apparently I have to follow the guide as he half-heartedly points, names, and describes surrounding buildings.

I think even he is feeling a little under the weather.

But like the Christian Soldiers, we continue onward, across a road, past souvenir and ice-cream shops, and to the 12th century Cathedral. The exterior is a confusing mish-mash of everything and beautifully summarised in Wikipedia as being Norman, Islamic, Gothic, Baroque, and Neoclassical. It is all that and more. The wall surrounding the cathedral is adorned with statues of popes, who will hopefully protect this architectural behemoth from further invasions.

We step inside, where I find a masterpiece in simplicity. Painted in cream and grey, the lofty church is light-filled and airy. There are two murals in the nave; the lower mural fills the niche space, whilst the mural of St Mary of the Assumption on the barrel roof appears an afterthought and not really in keeping with the simple grey and white decorations. The two side chapels are significant. The one on the left is decorated with precious stones and lapis lazuli and the one on the right is a chapel dedicated to Saint Rosalia, the patron of Palermo, whose remains are apparently stored in the silver urn inside the chapel. The most outstanding feature of the cathedral is the meridian or solar observatory. Built in 1801 by astronomer, Giuseppe Piazzi, a tiny hole in one of the minor domes projects an image of the sun on the floor. There is a bronze line on the floor running precisely North/South, so at solar noon (12:00pm in winter, 1:00pm in summer), the sun image passes through this line. There are more things inside this cathedral, including relics and tombs, but time is short and it is soon time to leave.

On our way to the port, I see signs on buildings that say Prada and other luxury brands, and despite a deep yearning to get the shuttle bus to further explore Palermo's shopping district with zeal, I know deep down that I would not enjoy shopping today. My clothes are again stuck to my skin, and I decide to put off my shopping trip until Rome...

... or maybe Naples.