Picture This: Sicily. 2008.

I can't believe I just thought to use a Golden Girls Sicily joke. But perfect timing.

I rode an 8+ hr train to Palermo today. I sat next to a delightful Sicilian gentleman named George. He wanted to talk for all 8 hours, apparently because he loves learning languages and needed to practice his English. He was 62, but "still has the heart of a child." The heart of a child involved showing me "inventions" he had made, including a strap he bolted into his cell phone so that it will stay on his belt. He showed it to me and proclaimed "I ingenious!"

George loves dancing, but "like dancing with slim girls more; girls with big butts make me tired when we dance. I too small for girls with big butts." He loves to dance the "waltz, mamba and booooogey wooooogey." Just a solid dude.

He left our train car when it was taken over by five kids who decided to run down the aisle throwing plastic bottles, jumping on the seats, and kicking each other in the crotch. Shirking all parental shouts, they did this for the last four hours of the journey.

This is my first night in Palermo, and already it's up with my favorite places I've been. The city map I found prominently displays the three puppet theaters in the city, all of which are near my hostel. I think tomorrow may be the first Sicilian puppet triple feetch by an American. I'm giddy with excitement. If all goes well, I may have to cap off the day with a visit to the Sicilian International Marrionette and Puppet Museum. Sicilians, hide your daughters.

Palermo is tons of tiny streets, churches, bars, restaurants, and no street signs. It is incredibly beautiful in a gritty, happy way. George told me to "buy the historical DVDs on Sicily. Five or eight of them in the set -- much much much history here."

The last two days were in Sorrento, where I finally realized that hanging out with American girls is the only way to get any attention in Italy. Walking around with two girls from Tennessee, I was treated like an emperor. Our cab driver on the first night said that he would love to hang out with us, but couldn't because they "are my women." We tried very hard to tell him that these were not my women, but it wasn't until after we dropped them off that he finally cracked, and said "Okay okay, please please please call me tomorrow. I give you my number. Please. I love to spend time with you all...as long as you don't think I'm taking your women." We tried calling him five times the next day, with no luck. Gianluca, where are you??