We didn’t set out to count the miles. But when we realized our feet had carried us almost exactly the distance from Sicily to Tunisia, the journey suddenly became something deeper than travel. This is a story about walking, migration, and the quiet moment when you realize you’ve crossed into a new life.
Mount Etna is more than a volcano — she’s a living, breathing force of nature that shapes weather, land, and the people who live beside her. This is a story about fog and fire, fear and courage, descending into silence, and learning that creation and destruction often come from the same place.
A personal reflection on living with gastroparesis and rediscovering joy, trust, and connection through food in Scicli, Sicily.
After days of rain and quiet walks through Scicli, our first true wildlife encounter didn’t come from the ground. It arrived suddenly from the sky—and was gone just as fast.
I never thought food would be the thing that surprised me most in Sicily—until Scicli quietly changed the way I eat, and the way I pay attention.
Scicli doesn’t quiet down after midnight—it shifts. As the town continues into the night, its cats wait patiently in the stone, moving on their own terms and reminding us that not everything reveals itself when we expect it to.
Friendly reminder to always respect the local wildlife and strays!
Ancient stones hold more than history — they hold the quiet moments where new memories begin to take shape. Walking through these ruins in winter light felt less like visiting the past and more like briefly stepping into its rhythm.
This Is Scicli is a story about a town that held us still.
About quiet mornings, worn stone streets, and the strange comfort of not needing to rush anywhere at all.
Minimalism was never the destination. It was a byproduct of choosing freedom—of learning what to carry, and what to leave behind.
