Memories in Sicily
As more and more backpackers pop up near my adopted home in Ireland this summer, I’m reminded of my own freewheeling adventures as a budget traveler. One particular episode, though, stands out above all the others.
In the spring of 1986, after several weeks’ worth of trains and planes, I found myself sitting alone on an unfamiliar doorstep in Sicily. I also found myself questioning the wisdom of traveling 5,000 miles from my family home in Medford to revive my father’s neglected lineage.
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