June 10, 2010
There are rivers, cascades, torrents of steps in Sicilian hill towns.
Ragusa Ibla is a natural gym—better than a Stair Stepper. No wonder the locals live such long lives. It must be the steps (oh, and the olive oil that old-timers drink like water).
I gain no weight here, though I eat like a monster: great bowls of pasta alla Norma, cones of toasted almond gelato, artichoke flowers, deep-fried donuts filled with sweet pistachio cream, wheels of cheese.
To the hundreds of steps in town, add twenty-five more in my house. I lie in bed at night, head spinning and spinning. Legs aching and aching. And I’m happy.
Does this life look fun to you?