Frank and I are staying at a hotel near Licata, on the Southern coast of Sicily near his family’s hometown. It is in the shadow of a castello (castle) called Falconara, but otherwise pretty remote. We have our hotel complex, which is very nice, and a little pizzeria next door. It is a sleepy little outpost.
On Saturday night, we decided to venture next door to the pizzeria. We had a table outside under the trees with a few other Sicilian families.
Eventually, we noticed more and more cars coming. But the restaurant was not filling up. Soon the cars were parked on both sides of the road. Hmmm . . . .
After we finished our pizza, we decided to check it out. We explored a little until we turned a corner to find the Disco Club Hollywood!
We paid the 6 Euro cover charge – and imagine our surprise when we walked in to find at least 200 Siciilians line dancing! They had rolled back part of the roof and were dancing under the stars. The dance floor was huge, with a DJ spinning tunes from the stage.
The DJ would call out a dance – salsa, foxtrot, waltz – and everyone would run to the floor with their partners. They were amazing – perfectly in sync, as they went in a circle around the floor doing the same steps at the same time. Sometimes they would start with a line dance (that was very complicated) and then in the middle of the song, start a partner dance. We just watched on the sidelines with our mouths open. My favorite was the polka.
The last song of the night was “Que Sera Sera” –
“Whatever will be will be . . . the future’s not ours to see . . . Que Sera Sera.”
Everyone danced and sang it loudly (even though most of them probably didn’t understand the words). It was one of those perfect moments that you stumble upon. And despite all the meticulous trip planning, these spontaneous moments are the best.
“. . . despite all the meticulous trip planning, these spontaneous moments are the best . . .” So true! It reminds me of a long ago trip to Ireland when we stumbled upon a traditional ceili dance on the north coast of Donegal, held on the grounds of a ruined castle where Red Hugh O’Donnell had been captured in the late 1500s. It was a warm sunny August day and everyone from the little town nearby was there dancing and watching, little children, old nuns, middle-aged couples, teens …and a band set up on a special trailer stage. I will always remember it. Ti ringrazio per la memoria!
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