A SICILIAN ODYSSEY
High in the darkening Sicilian sky above us clouds pile up like boulders, their black bellies outlined in a brilliant white from the sun hidden above. We’ve never seen anything quite like it. No wonder this country is so religious — with a celestial display like this it’s easy to understand people believing in a petulant deity who smites sinners yet cares enough to cut through the darkness with his light.
Then comes the crackling thunder. Rolling north from the Mediterranean over the hills towards our zooming Bentley Continental GT Speed Convertible, the boom never arrives. I’m unsure if we outrun it or if the combustion from the engine overshadows its clap, what with the twin-turbo powerplant’s dozen cylinders firing their own boisterous orchestra. Even with the sound system turned off to enjoy the petroleum howls of the British coupe, the leitmotif of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” echoes in my head. The drama is high.
This is God’s Country. Or in Sicily’s sake, gods (plural), as
