I bought a map. A very very big driving map of sicily.
It is so big I had to take around four pieces of art off the wall for it.
It would not be usable if you were driving (and wanted to experience the pre-google maps dark ages).
We swear by Google Maps. It has saved my marriage. We used to argue like rabid dogs about directions, and we had different styles. Jeff wants to ask people for directions. But I’m Sicilian, and I believe that everyone will give the wrong directions, especially officials. We should just work it out on our own. He wants to just start walking, even if we don’t know where to. I just want to work it out before we leave. I hate unnecessary sweat.
Another of Jeff’s map habits that drives me mental is when we order in food and all he is capable of doing for the next 30-60 minutes is looking at the map to see where the food is. And then he’ll announce:
Rajan has picked up the food.
The map has every single street, creek and laneway marked on the island. It might have been handy that time in Santa Maria when we got a little lost and ended up being bogged in sand. Google Maps did not work that day. But, as we know:
The fucked up situations like these are what makes a rich life, and excellent stories to tell people.
The map is really really big.