It's not goodbye...it's see you later

Buon pomeriggio signore e signori, è il vostro capitano a parlare. Vorrei darvi il benvenuto a bordo di questo volo Alitalia per Roma. Vi auguro a tutti un piacevole volo.

Good afternoon, ladies, and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I’d like to welcome you aboard this Alitalia flight to Rome. I wish you all a pleasurable flight.

Short and sweet and a slightly different welcome from my last flight. Four months ago, I had been flying with British Airways from London Gatwick to Sicily after the Christmas break. Then, the captain thought he had a chance at winning ‘Comedy in the Air 2000’ or whatever talent show pilots with particular senses of humour enter. But this time there were no jokes about the pilot carrying ‘extra baggage’ or the cabin crew having ‘delightful hands.’ Maybe the pilot felt as I did that this wasn’t a time for jokes. 

I sat back and took a sip of my acqua panna water to rehydrate and look less hungover before I saw my dad and my boyfriend Luke. I stared at the bottle trying not to well up at the thought that this was the last time I would drink from this familiar bottle for a while. Why was I getting so sentimental about a water bottle?

I started to close my eyes but was awoken by a lady behind me. She wasn’t holding anything back. 

‘I just find them so rude. You know…the Sicilians. I’d be waiting in line in the Post Office in that dreadfully stifling heat ready to send my postcards home and after hours of waiting, I’d get to the front of the line only for the shutter to come down and the ‘closed’ sign go up. You could see the chap wasn’t busy. Merely smoking and sipping his coffee. Talk about rude! No wonder the country is in the situation it’s in. And don’t get me started on the traffic. It’s a death trap with all those vespers. I couldn’t live there. Do you live there? I mean, one can tolerate all that chaos for a short time.’

All that beautiful chaos. I smiled thinking about the number of times I’d walked into the beautiful art nouveau building which was home to the post office in Trapani. And there I would stand and stare at the immense height of the ceilings as if some door to the heavens. I must admit, at first, my British need for orderliness and timekeeping couldn’t compute what was unfolding in front of me: the loud chatter and wild gesticulations in response to the ‘Scrivania chiusa’ sign coming down; the utter disbelief that the postal workers would nonchalantly light up and take their time over a coffee while the queue grew. As the weeks and months past, I learned to let go and enjoy the lack of control about the situation. It was as if I was part of some childhood board game moving along the queue only to slide back down with a moment’s notice. As for the lady’s comment about the traffic, I agree, I had initially thought I was witnessing a scene from The Italian Job but once I adjusted to the tempo, I had enjoyed being picked up by one of my students on their vesper. Weaving through the traffic and on the narrow streets not sure what we encounter was quite the thrill and it made me laugh to think what my friends back home would say about my ‘cool factor.’

After take-off, I pulled my bag up from below the seat in front of me, feeling for my wallet as I could see the hostesses would soon pass. As I pulled out the last of my lira, I realised that that’s what I must have forgotten to do: close my bank account. Surely it didn’t matter? It only had a few lira in it.  During my first week in Sicily, my employees Theresa and her husband Giovanni had taken me along to the Banco di Sicilia to open an account. I wasn’t entirely sure why as at the end of each month, Rosaria would give all the employees an envelope with our pay and it seemed that I could pay for everything in cash or with my cards from home. I had met the bank manager and another professional had been presented to witness my signature. It had all felt very formal. I had then mentioned to two of the teachers about the experience and asked if they had opened a savings account. Julian had laughed at me saying ‘Darling, you have a salary of 1.1 million lira which is about 300 pounds. You have barely enough to live off, you won’t have anything to save.’ I had felt very young and naive by comparison but just laughed it off. 

I looked at the beautiful air hostesses with their dark shiny locks and olive skin as if they had bathed in the finest olive oil. As they walked up and down the aisle, it felt as if they were preparing for their next career: modelling on a Milan catwalk. I noticed they didn’t engage in small talk. They were too focused on their role which was delivered with military precision. 

When the trolley reached me, one of the beautiful cabin crew said, ‘Good morning. What can I get you?’

‘Un espresso e un panettone per favore.’

‘aah parla italiano? She said with a smile. ‘Certo’

Would this be my last taste of Sicily?

I was thankful for the caffeine as I sipped my espresso. I had been fascinated by the whole experience of going out to coffee bars. On my first day at school, my employers Theresa and Giovanni, had taken me to the bar next to the school for lunch. Enjoying my plate of lasagna which was so moist and layered with the most wonderfully fresh ingredients, Theresa smoked, and I couldn’t help but notice that only men loitered at the bar. There never seemed to be any women just hanging out. So different to all the cafes in England. When one tall, elegant woman with a full-length grey mackintosh walked in, all heads turned eager to lock her in a gaze. I detected an Eastern European accent when she asked for a coffee ‘Porta via, a cornetti cioccalata and un espresso per favore?’ As said lady left, lots of chatter started between several of the older retired men and one of the waiters. I got the gist of what they were saying by their very full hand gestures in the chest region . Theresa rolled her eyes and then said ‘I don’t know where you put it. Would you like another slice?’ I continued to devour my lasagna like it was my last meal on earth. 

‘Oh no that was wonderful.’ I would’ve scoffed another slice but was conscious not to seem to like a pig to my new employees. 

Despite trying to doze on the plane, I found it hard and was conscious not to fall into a deep sleep when I would have a quick change in Rome for London. I remember at Christmas being in a shop at the airport and then realised just how large the airport was when they were calling my name for boarding. 

I was also feeling a bit delicate after too much wine and limoncello last night and worn from the lastminute scramble to pack everything I had acquired in six months. Despite the pace of life passing in a slow and steady manner during my time there, the pace had certainly picked up during my last week in Sicily. It had felt packed with hundreds of goodbyes to the food, the places but most importantly the people. Theresa and Giovanni left during my last week for Australia as they would be visiting Theresa’s family for a month. She apologised for missing my last week but said ‘Don’t worry, Rosaria is in charge and will give you the sendoff you deserve. I’ve booked a dinner for you and a few of the teachers and students on Friday at La Cantina de peppe.’ 

‘Oh, my goodness Theresa thank you, you are so kind, and I will really miss you and Giovanni.’

‘And enjoy your trip away. Have you guessed where you are off to?’

My good friend, Pietro had asked Theresa if I could finish my lessons a few days earlier than planned so I could see a bit more of the island, but I had no idea where we were headed. I stopped myself from thinking about those last few days away.

I rummaged further in my handbag. Had I packed everything? Wallet. Check. Passport. Check. Ticket. Check. 

Where was my lipstick? It’s still in the bathroom of the apartment. Oh well maybe my former flatmate Kelly can use it to write notes to herself on the bathroom mirror like she did countless times when I was sharing an apartment with her.

I mean I didn’t mind looking in the mirror and seeing ‘Every day in every way you’re getting more beautiful.’ I thought it was a nice little pick me up especially after too much wine with friends, but it also gave me the jitters.

Maybe she’ll leave a welcome message for the next teachers going in ‘Tell that Teresa to rack off!’ or some such. I did feel for her, but she certainly hadn’t helped herself by trying to steal clients from the school. 

I knew things were starting to heat up for Kelly as Theresa had asked me about her movements a month ago.

One evening as I was preparing to leave school, Theresa tapped on the classroom door, ‘Hello you’ she said in her very soft tone. I did notice her tone was very different with me and I selfishly didn’t mind at all. I looked at Theresa as a sort of maternal figure away from home. ‘Do you have a minute?’ she asked.

‘Of course, anything.’

‘Oh well if anything for me, please stay?’

‘Oh, Theresa you are so kind, and I would love to.’

‘I know, but love calls.’

‘Well yes but not that. I’m so torn. I’ve fallen in love with Trapani and everyone here.’

‘I think the feeling is mutual.’ She looked at me with a knowing expression.

‘I also want to ask you something else if you don’t mind?’

‘Of course.’

‘Have you seen Davido Corleone, Mario Perla and Francesco Vento at your apartment?’

Blushing thinking about Francesco and that kiss, I answered ‘yes’. ‘Not a lot but I have seen them.’

‘And sorry to ask but what have they been doing in the apartment?’

Oh god this was giving me flash backs to school. I’ve got one of those faces. I can’t lie. If ever there was an incident the teachers would always call me in. How honest should I be about the shagging/ smoking weed/more shagging certainly with Davido and Mario.

‘I mean have you seen Kelly giving them lessons?’

Oh, that’s what she’s getting at.

‘Not really. I saw them chatting at the kitchen table but that’s all.’

‘Well, thank you for being so honest.’

‘Is everything alright Theresa?’

‘I think it will be. Look I’ll leave you to your evening and see you tomorrow.’

‘Ciao Theresa.’

‘And Theresa heading into Giovanni’s office and closed the door.’

When Kelly didn’t turn up at my leaving party, I suspected something had happened and it was Helen, another teacher at the school who said ‘did you hear about Kelly? She’s been fired.’

‘What!’

‘She’d been taking students from the school and Theresa wouldn’t tolerate it.’

‘Shit.’

‘I know, I think she’s looking to leave Trapani.’

I felt for Kelly, she was a lost soul really.

I continued to rummage through my handbag and pulled out my envelope from one of my students at the Liceo classico, Federica. She has been such a delight to teach.

There was a postcard of the salt pans off the coast of Trapani and a beautiful sunset.

Dear Rebecca

Thank you so much for being our fantastic English teacher. I hope you return to Trapani one day. You will always have a home here. 

I am sitting at my desk thinking of all your wonderful lessons. Do you like my use of the present continuous? Ha!

Lots of love

Federica.

Ps Guiseppe told me he hopes you return to Trapani one day as he loves you and wants to marry you.

I distinctly remember one of my lessons at the classics high school. 

‘Good morning class how are you all? Did you have a nice weekend?’

It has been a beautifully warm weekend in March and so many students had gone to their homes on the Egadi islands, just off the coast of Trapani. 

‘Yes, it was nice.’ Piped up Federica. ‘What did you do Rebecca? We’re you with friends?’

‘I had a lovely weekend with my friends Federica.’

‘Did you go out with Daniel?’ Maria asked.

Daniel was one of the other English teachers at the Liceo and quite the subject of interest amongst the girls. On my first afternoon at the high school, I had arrived to an empty class only to find the girls sitting and swooning in a classroom down the corridor where Daniel was. He was everything that I suspect they associated with America. Tall, blond, well built, and dreamy. 

‘I did.’ But when chatter started, I continued. ‘let’s begin.’

The grammar for the class that day was the present continuous and after a few exercises I pulled out a tape from my bag and the students were curious to know what I would play. 

At the back, Giuseppe said ‘I expect the Rolling Stones.’

I pressed start.

I am sitting in the morning

At the diner on the corner

I am waiting at the counter

For the man to pour the coffee

And he fills it only halfway

And before I even argue

He is looking out the window

At somebody coming in

We listened to the song and then I asked the students to complete an exercise. By the end of the class, they were all singing Tom’s Diner and as they left Federica said ‘thank you Rebecca.  You are an excellent teacher’ which filled me with so much joy. 

As we prepared to land, I looked in my bag one more time and pulled out my envelope from Pietro. I wasn’t ready to read it so I put it back in and focused on seeing my family and Luke at the airport.

Da da da da, da da da da

Da da da da da da da da

Everybody's welcome

Come on, come on in

Sit yourself down

The fun it never ends

Love is the drug

That makes you want to drink

'Til the morning after