"The Prizzi gang" is the friendly, local folks whom I met today, upon collapsing into the hilltop town of Prizzi after a wind-buffeted morning's ride. There were the owners of the cafe on the main drag: English-speaking, they've returned to Sicily after living for many years in the USA (you know New Yaahk — Braahklyn?), and they're very hospitable to tourists. There was the gang of "local boys": none of them were at school (apparently it was a teacher's strike today — but I don't think they attend much anyway), so they were just hanging around the cafe. And there were the quintessential random old men, who were also hanging around the bar, and who insisted on helping me change my flat tyre (they're all experts on bike repairs, of course). Cool crowd, and as Sicilian as anything I could ever imagine.
Prizzi: hilltop town of Mafia infamy.
Prizzi's a quirky but cool place to visit. Unfortunately for cyclists such as myself, it's at the top of a hill, and it's off the main highway — but don't let this deter you, as it's good once you get inside. The town is famous for historically being one of the biggest Mafia strongholds in Sicily's Mafia heartland; although it doesn't have quite the reputation of Corleone, which is further along in the mountains. Today, the Mafia are (according to the locals) long-gone — but then again, they would say that; if they said anything else, they'd disappear, right? :P Anyway, it was a pleasant stop on my difficult journey today; although even in the town itself, the crazy gale-force winds did not relent.