If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around, does it make noise? That’s what comes to mind when I visit a different country and look at every-day life going on around us. While we’re involved in our own lives and world, the rest of the world’s going on simultaneously without us even being aware of it. I don’t know why that amazes me, but it always does.

Life in other countries can be so different from ours, and yet in many ways very much the same.  I couldn’t shake those thoughts as I looked at every-day life in Sicily. Above is a cotton candy cart in Palermo offering all sizes, not just American mega-sized cones of swirled sugar. I love the tiny little ones, perfect for tiny little fists. “Peppa Pig”–don’t you wonder about how they chose the name?
Laundry drying in the sun and a woman carrying the day’s groceries down this narrow street, seemingly unaware of the history in every cobblestone and arch.  In Ortygia (Siracusa).

A chestnut vendor was heating his goods. I really wanted some, but M. didn’t and on our way back there was so much dark smoke I think the vendor had burned his goods.

Italian leather was yummy and all over the place. For once, I just wasn’t up to trying anything on.

Italian design is very recognizable, isn’t it?  More works of art than something I’d wear.

Even on street corners, icons are venerated.  The Virgin’s big.

Big city life in Palermo is diverse. Never saw someone dressed like this in rural villages.

The Italian Red Cross had a booth in Palermo, I think this was.

I loved this woman’s stance. “Don’t mess with me!” Classic Sicilian woman.

I took this as aspirational for Sicilians but meant for tourists.  Frette linens would be great, but they’re more expensive than my budget allows.

When handbills are posted on historic buildings they look almost like works of art, don’t they? But a reminder that life is going on, regular life, even as we visit.  Of course, in the U.S. we don’t often seen the Virgin Mary on a handbill.

Driving in Sicily –or any part of Italy, really–is always an adventure. As is parking. These small cars rarely look as good as this red one. Usually they’re dented and scratched, because the rules of the road simply do not exist. The roads are pandemonium.

This gorgeous blue color appeared every once in a while and never failed to catch my eye. This was at an estate on a beautiful piece of property, but the house smelled musty, which would’ve driven me crazy. I’m in love with that blue, though.

Just like in the U.S., people put out photos of their crazy relatives. I wish the guy in the turban was related to me just so I could put his photo out.  Maybe I’ll find a photo like that and put it out anyway.

I never saw a single Starbucks. Thankfully. But coffee art has definitely taken hold.

Even Italian pay phones are works of art. Seems like everyone’s got a cell phone, though, so I never saw anyone actually using one of these.

It’s not spelled or pronounced the same, but in my fever dream I thought it was, so I took a quick photo.

We waited and waited for the bride, but she must have been inside. Yes, life goes on even when we are not there to see it.

Italian men are peacocks and this sign shows just how much they are.

The green shutters on the balcony are almost as gorgeous as the blue. Shutters definitely serve a purpose–they’re not just decorative. They keep out the heat and cold and sun

This was a stall selling oils and nuts.
What’s behind those windows, I wonder?

Crazy socks display. Definitely attention-getting.
And everywhere, men sit on the street, cleaning sea urchins or just smoking and talking.

A trattoria. Dinner here was pretty good, but the people-watching was better.

Buskers weren’t doing a great business, but they were way more exotic-looking than the ones we have in the U.S.

I love how people walk down the uneven streets staring at their cellphones.

It’s risky, too, because Italians love to put tricky little half steps, like grace notes, everywhere, just to make sure you’re paying attention.

I loved this pop of floral color against the old stone of the shrine.

Babies are babies the world over, and this Sicilian boy was cute as can be.